


Dial Tone Devil

by dreamers_wonderland



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Depression, F/M, Friendship, Healthy Relationships and Coping Mechanisms, Listen We're all about Healthy Coping and Working Through Your Problems here, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Set Ups, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Therapy Lessons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamers_wonderland/pseuds/dreamers_wonderland
Summary: Lucifer’s reputation of granting favors is the second best thing he's known for. So when you ask for one - point blank - and offer him immediate repayment in the form of a coin he thought to be long gone, he immediately agrees. But you come with baggage, and series of suspicious circumstances, and Lucifer finds himself fully invested in your story.All because of a suspiciously familiar coin.Interesting.
Relationships: Friendship!Maze/Reader, Healthy Relationships/The Celestial Crew, Horny!Maze/Frienship!Reader, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) & Reader, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Reader, reader/friends
Comments: 52
Kudos: 404





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, and welcome to my second Lucifer work!! I REALLY enjoyed writing Midnight Morningstars, so having this is going to be a lot of fun!! I post over on Tumblr also, every Friday night, so be on the look out over there as well :D Please enjoy this, and if you're over on tumblr and wanna keep track, let me know your tumblr name and Ill tag you!

It started with a coin, a weird gold one with a star on one side. You found it on the road outside of a club as you walked home, sitting on the curb without anyone or anything around it. You flipped it over, weighed the heavy – and scalding – coin in your palm as you stared up at the club behind you.

The club was Lux.

You tilted your head, squinting as the sun glared off the multiple glass panes, and glanced down at the coin.

_“Sorry, dear, but we have to let you go. Business reconstruction, you understand.”_

_“Listen, it’s not…This isn’t a personal thing, but your work this year just hasn’t been up to snuff. You’re gonna have to repeat the class next year, get your grade replaced with a better one.”_

_“We’ve given you extensions every month on you’re rent, we can’t keep doing this. You have to be on time, this month, or you have to find somewhere else to live.”_

If divine providence was real, this was a holy intervention. You rolled the coin around in your palm, pressing the burning metal into your palm as you made your way to the door. It hurt to walk. Your arms ached as you pushed open the frosted glass door. The dark atmosphere immediately made your eyes heavy as you looked around the entrance and made your way down the hall and into the club proper.

A woman looked up from the bar, narrowing her dark eyes as she cleaned a set of glasses. “We’re closed.”

“Sorry, sorry, I—” You cleared your throat and plucked the coin from your hand. Even in the dark, you could see the pentagram seared into your flesh, already forming a welt where it had sat. “I found this? Outside?”

She made her way around the bar with echoing steps. “You found this?” She snatched it from your fingers. “Outside?”

You nodded extremely slowly. “Yes, I did.” You watched as she frowned, turning it over in her hands. “Um, can I ask you something?”

“Make it quick,” she answered, distracted, as she pulled her phone from her tight leather pants. She started to punch in a number, and set the phone on the counter.

“Are you guys hiring?”

She started to answer, still distracted by the coin in her hands, and paused. Stared at you. Narrowed her eyes even more. They traveled down your body, and the eyebrow with the scar cutting it in two slowly inched up. She nodded, satisfied, and returned her eyes to your face. “Can you dance?” she asked.

“I—excuse me?”

“Maze, you can take care of everything here for the day? The detective called, we have a case, and—” You and the bartender – Maze – turned towards the British voice. The man, dressed to the nines, paused as he came down the stairs from an elevator. “Oh, hello there.” He buttoned the coat at his waist and held out a hand. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” You took his hand, voice catching on multiple starts of multiple sentences. “I’m Lucifer. Morningstar.”

You blindly reached out and sloppily grabbed the coin from Maze’s hand, holding it up in front of your face. And his. “Like the Devil?” you asked. His face, a mask of charm and allure, fell as he went cross-eyed, staring at the coin. “I found this outside on the curb.”

“Did you now,” he breathed, slowly, with a voice so full of reverence you thought you offered him diamonds. “Funny, I lost a coin just like this a while back to my father.” As he reached for it, you dropped the coin back into your palm. Now, it was him who was at a loss for words.

“Are you hiring?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you hiring?” you repeated. He released your hand to slide his into perfectly tailored pockets. You swallowed, and stuttered, “I need a job, badly. I can bartend, I can answer phones, I can do paperwork, Hell, I will clean—”

“Will you give me the coin?” You started at the sudden statement. He smiled. On another face, it would be slimy. “Consider the job a favor on my behalf, and all I ask is for the coin.” You stared at Maze, who had poured herself a drink between Lucifer arriving and that moment, and now drank slowly with a shrug. “You can answer phones? How about my assistant, hm? You can work here in the club, use the office – I don’t find much use for it anyway. Make sure paperwork is all in line, orders, all the not fun legal things that make Lux run.”

“For how—”

He turned to Maze. “What does a job like that pay? What do you make, catching all those nasty humans?”

“Enough.”

“Hm.” He turned back to you. “How about we say…Thirty? An hour?” You choked on the air in your lungs.

“That sounds low, Lucifer, you could better,” Maze prompted.

“Forty?”

You stepped back and pressed a hand to your chest. Were those palpitations? You were very sure you were having palpitations over the flippancy of which the British club owner was negotiating your wages. You could see Maze’s lips turn down in a massive, expressive frown. “Oh, why not fifty, that sounds reasonable.” He paused, and stared at a distant spot on the wall. “No, an even fifty-one. An hour, of course. That puts you just north of one-hundred-thousand dollars a year.”

You started to laugh: small, delirious giggles that bubbled out of your mouth like rabid foam. You covered your mouth to try and stifle them, and found it impossible. Tears pricked your eyes. Maze nodded slowly.

“That’s so much?” you tried to say around your laughter. “I—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He smiled. “I will personally ensure that you earn that money.”

You held out the coin. He plucked it from your fingers, and tucked it into a pocket inside his blazer. “Perfect. I happen to know a few good lawyers, we can get the paperwork drawn up before the end of the day.” His hand slid over your shoulder, and turned you around, towards the door you had walked through. “Do you have the time? We can head to an office now, get everything settled, and you can start tomorrow.”

You pressed your fingers into your cheeks to smooth the tears away. “You don’t even know my name,” you whispered.

He leaned into the door to prop it open. “And what is it?” he asked. You gave it, quietly, breathlessly, and he smiled something akin to the sun. “Splendid…”

The paperwork was easy enough: a stack of legalese so small you thought you were getting dizzy, but you asked for a copy of it and found it sound. You even took notes. Lucifer escorted you out to his car as you read through the contract a second time, and then a third. You sank into the passenger’s seat of his beautiful convertible and sighed.

“Is something wrong? We can go back in and fix things,” he said as he sat in behind the wheel.

“No!” you exclaimed, looking up, “No, no, this is wonderful. I—” You gasped and shook your head, looking up through the windshield. Even in the parking lot, the lawyer he knew had a Hell of a view of the City of Angels. You sat back against the leather. “I never thought anything like this could happen.”

“What, you never thought you’d meet the Devil?” he asked with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I…” You hugged the contract to your chest. “I never thought I’d get more second chances.” You looked up. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

He started the car. “Well, don’t thank me yet. You still owe me a favor.” He motioned to you. “Buckle up.”

“No? I don’t, I gave you your coin, that was the agreement.” You sat back as he turned out of the parking lot. “What do I need to know? Being your…assistant.”

“Oh, well, you’ll be helping me to manage Lux,” he slowed at a stop sign and continued on, peeling away from the intersection without a sound. “Like I said: orders, hiring—”

“Hiring?”

“Book acts, and parties, and setting up events—”

“Okay—”

“Taking phone calls for me, like the ones from the police. I mean, I know I’m consultant, but it isn’t my day job.”

“Should I write this down?”

“Oh, and finding a way to make sure the Holy can’t just drop into my place of business.” He violently rolled his eyes. “Find a witch doctor, curse the place, I don’t care, I can’t stand my brother dropping in at all times when he feels like it.” He tapped his fingers against the wheel. “Except when he wants a drink, then he drop as much money as he wants. And then there’s my mother, I can’t stand getting her calls on _top_ of the Detective’s and the police departments—do they not understand that I have other things to attend to? Not that I _dislike_ either, but I—”

You sucked on your teeth, looked around in your bag, and scribbled a list out on the back of a receipt. “Got it.”

“Wha—” He stopped at a light and stared at you. “You did?”

You nodded and lifted the list. “Anything else?”

Lucifer paused. He sat back in the seat, and stared at the light above his head. “Huh. I should have thought of hiring you years ago.”

You tilted your head and smacked your lips. “Well, I didn’t live in L.A. years ago, so you’ve lucked out.”

“You didn’t?” He hummed, and started back down the road. “Well, tell me about yourself! I know nothing of you, save your name and the luck of your timing.”

You continued to scribble on the receipt, notes that for what you could do to fulfill the requests he’s made of you, and rattled off the information he asked of you, “I took a break after high school that turned into a decade of poor choices and shitty apartments in equally shitty cities and situations across the country, and now I’m here.”

“Here doing what?” he prodded.

“School?” you offered, “I dunno, I’m just trying to find something that catches my attention and gives me that spark.” You shrugged. “It’s hard. Just not enough of the right chemicals for my brain to sit in.”

“Excuse me?”

You sighed. “It’s nothing.”

Lucifer took pause. “This must be what the Detective feels when I’m talking…”

You looked up, and folded the list together to stick into your bag. “Are you taking me home?” you asked when you finally looked up and saw the buildings whizzing past.

“No, back to Lux, but if you want me to take you home, I certainly can,” he answered with a wink and smile.

You nodded slowly. “Not what I meant.”

“Oh.”

“Uh, what street are we on?” You turned around to stare at a street sign. “We need to go to McArthur Park.”

“McArthur—” You thought the tires burned with how hard he slammed on the brakes. You braced against the dashboard, wheezing as the seatbelt cut into your chest. “You will **not** be staying there, certainly not when you’re working for me.”

“It was the only place I could afford, given the circumstances,” you protested, looking over. “And I can update my lease by month, in case I need somewhere else to live.”

“Good.” He leaned on the wheel as he stared at you. “Then you will no problem moving into Lux.”

“Excuse me—”

“Oh I will **not** be excusing any part of you. Consider Lux part of your employment package.” He scoffed, shifted gears, and continued to drive. You opened your mouth. “No exceptions!” He shook he head. “Cannot believe you thought you could drive from McArthur Park—what if I needed you right away?”

“I don’t drive, I take the bus,” you whispered.

“Well, that’s even **worse**!”

“It’s not??” You stared as he continued to complain, now on a completely new tangent, shaking his head. You wondered just what you got yourself into with such a deal – a new job, a new home, and a chance to restart?

Who in the world did you make a deal with?


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I hope that you enjoy chapter two!! I really like the set up? So I hope that you do, too!!

“So what do I call you?” you asked as you looked around the office. Maze leaned on the door, peeling an apple with a curved knife, and eating the pieces directly off the blade. You looked over as you pulled the computer around the desk and knelt to plug it in.

“My name is Mazikeen,” she answered. She sat on your desk as you worked beneath the ebony metal contraption, making sure that everything you had ran up to your desk and sat in the right spots. As you crawled out from under the desk, you saw she was right in your face. “You can call me Mazikeen,” she added.

You nodded slowly, and rose to your feet. “Alrighty then.” You connected the phone, and sat in your brightly colored rolling chair to program it.

And she stared all the while, eyes narrowed as she watched you. “What are you doing?”

“Programing numbers?” you suggested. She scooted around your desk. “So, between certain hours, the calls from Lucifer’s number will come to this phone, and I’m programing the numbers in so that I can see who it is,” you explained, “I’m also adding a short cut to this so that when I’m out, the calls all forward to my phone.”

Mazikeen slowly lifted a piece of the apple to her mouth. “Are you a witch?” she finally asked.

You snorted. “No. I just read the instruction manual.” You held out the newspaper thin booklet for her to take. “I figured this would make life a little easier.” You finished with what you were doing, and taped a list of numbers next to the phone for your quick reference. “Actually, you’re in charge of the bar, yeah?”

“Yes…?”

You smiled. “Do you think I could have your order book? I can just order everything that you need at the same time as I order everything else. Make it easier on y—”

She hopped off the desk and stabbed the knife into the wooden side table next to you. You pressed your lips together and watched her leave. “I think I’ll like you,” she said as she reached the door.

You stuttered, lost for words as she left, and leaned back in your seat. “Okay,” you called to empty air. You heaved a sigh, and glanced around the massive office, at the blank walls and dark paint, and wondered what you could do with it all. You left the office, leaving behind a blazer, and rolled up the sleeves of your shirt as you entered the club proper. The phone behind you rang, calling for you, and you groaned and jogged back down the hall, leaving Mazikeen to stare after you and laugh.

You snagged the phone off the cradle on the fourth ring. “Lux,” you said, introducing yourself after, “How may I help you?”

There was a pause of silence. “Uh, is Lucifer…there?” a woman asked.

You wedged the phone between your ear and shoulder, and pulled a notepad over to you. “I’m actually his assistant.”

“Oh!” The woman laughed lightly. “I didn’t know…he…needed an assistant.”

“Apparently he does.” You smiled and clicked the pen. “So, what can I do for you, Ms…”

“Oh,” she said again, “This is Detective Decker. Chloe…D-Decker, I’m sorry, this is weird, is Lucifer around?”

You wrote her name down and pulled the cradle off the desk, peeking down the hall from your door. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t see a thing from my hall. I’ve been banished to a dark corner to do all this work.”

“He needs to get a phone of his own,” Chloe Decker mused.

“You know, he has one, but I’ve been told to forward his calls to me,” you replied. You sighed and wandered back to your desk. “Detective? I’m assuming you have a case, right? Since he does the consulting thing?”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” she finally answered. She gave you an address, which you jotted down and circled. “Can you have him meet me there?”

“Of course, Ms. Decker.”

“Oh, just…Chloe. Please,” she insisted. You nodded, and ended your call, setting the phone to forward to you, and heading out of the office.

Mazikeen leaned on the bar, pouring over a book, jotting down notes on its pages. She looked up when you entered. “Already working?” she asked.

“And you’re adding to my work, I see,” you chimed. She shrugged. “Is Lucifer **here**? Upstairs? Where would I find him?”

She pointed to the elevator above your head. You nodded, headed up the stairs, and entered the elevator. The penthouse button required a key, and you patted your pockets to search for your copy. As you inserted the key, Mazikeen’s head popped up above the alcove floor. “Oh, be careful. He might have company,” she commented.

You started to ask her what kind of company, but the elevator doors shut. You huffed, and picked at your sleeves as the elevator started up the building. You passed your floor, the sixth, where your FAR too big apartment took almost a sizable chunk of the floor. The furniture you had hardly filled the space, and that was from an eight-hundred square foot apartment! You heaved a sigh and watched the elevator continue up, heading to the penthouse that you knew Lucifer occupied at the top.

When it stopped, and the doors slid open, smoke wafted into the compartment. You coughed, surprised, and squinted into the room as you walked in. There were muffled giggles, soft gasps, and quiet moans that you couldn’t find the source of. As you walked in, you found beautiful crystal decanters in the shape of skulls, and a massive glass reservoir on the bar, with spouts on four sides, filled with the green liquid of absinthe.

“Lucifer?” you called into the smoky haze.

A sounds were cut short, and you heard quiet reassurances from your right as you crossed the room to the glass wall of his balcony. You pushed open the door, and coughed as the smoke was suctioned out past you, billowing into the air. Lucifer’s voice sounded behind you, a gentle purr of your name that had you turning around. He was belting a silk robe closed. “Fancy seeing you here!” he exclaimed.

“Not really, I work for you,” you replied. You felt your voice catch in your throat as men and women in various states of nudeness left the room, picking up clothes from the floor. A man with full dark hair winked as you met his gaze, and you felt your face flush before you looked away.

Lucifer glanced back, and grinned. “You know, I could introduce you to Henry, he’s a marvelous fellow, _very_ well endowed—”

“Detective Decker called!” you rushed to cut him off. You politely turned away, pressed your lips together and did everything you could stop a grin from worming across your face. You cleared your throat. “She has a case for you?”

“Oh!” You heard Lucifer turn away. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that!” You turned away, and found Lucifer had disappeared into the area sectioned off for his room. The man, Henry, was leading the rest of the party into the elevator. He met your gaze before the door closed, and smiled, waving just enough to keep your attention before the door shut. “I _told_ you I can introduce you, he’s a good man, and very talented,” Lucifer commented. It took you a moment to look up at him, finding him completely dressed.

“Uh, no, I’m….far too preoccupied—”

“A good shag always reorders the mind, you know,” he responded. He straightened his coat, a beautiful import by the looks of it, and smiled. “You ever been to a crime scene?” he asked.

“No?” you offered. “Because it’s generally frowned upon for normal, non law enforcement people to be loitering at a crime scene.”

“We just have to fix that then,” he said. He waved an arm around your back, hovering just above touch, and motioned to the elevator. “After you, dear.”

He brought you to a massive hotel – a ritzy one, where your car had to be at least one-hundred thousand dollars or even the valet wouldn’t look at you – and helped you out from the front seat. You followed him through the hotel, down lush red carpet on sleek onyx floors, and out to an infinity pool that overlooked the cliff the hotel sat on, with a view of the Los Angeles skyline to kill for.

To one side, where the outdoor patio backed up to where the laundry and pumps for the pool would be, stood who you assumed to be Detective Decker. Red and blue lights strobed against the building as you walked closer, following Lucifer’s confident strides. The Detective looked up once, twice, and finally settled a questioning gaze on you. You shook your head, and shrugged.

“Uh, Lucifer,” she started, turning to him.

He, in turn, swept an arm around you with the largest grin he could muster. “Detective, I would like you to meet my personal assistant.” You tried to smile, you really did, but it shrank as he kept talking. “Part of the job is to be with me while I work cases, in case anything else happens to come up, of course.”

You backed up and pointed at the ground. “I’m gonna stay right here, outside of the crime scene, and keep to myself, like a good civilian.”

“What, no, what if I need your eyes, or a second opinion?” Lucifer asked.

“No, that’s a very good idea, thank you,” the Detective said over him. Lucifer scoffed, and followed her beneath the yellow tape, around the corner, and out of sight. You heaved the heaviest of sighs as you looked around the area. It was a beautiful white stone patio, massive, with gorgeous metal tables and chairs with stuffed cushions, plush towels, and an incredible view of the city. You wandered along the edge of the pool, down a strip of stone that outlined the pool, right to its edge. Below you was a small fence, just a short distance away, but far enough that someone could, at least, break an ankle if they fell off the edge. The water of the pool trickled over its hidden glass rim, down into the lip surrounding it and back into the pool.

There was a familiar sound, one that made you squint the longer you heard it. It didn’t belong in a pool area, that was for sure. You turned as you tried to pinpoint its location, listening harder, trying to think of where you had heard it.

It was water on metal, like something you heard in your sink. You inched closer to the edge, your breath caught in your throat, and you shouted, “Detective Decker!” You twisted away, felt your foot slip off the edge, and stumbled forward back to the patio. The Detective’s head popped out around the corner, and she ducked under the tape. “Are you missing a gun?” you asked through a wheeze.

Lucifer peeked around the corner as the Detective made her way towards you. “See, what did I tell you? Useful!”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SO! Chapter three posted to Tumblr, so I need to post the new one here!! :D I hope that you enjoy it!! Please let me know what you think~!

You followed the case from the safety of the internet, Lucifer’s emoji filled texts, and wildly inappropriate pictures of the crime scene and suspects. For days, it was all that occupied your mornings, and afternoons you fell into the groove of managing Lux. Once the case was closed, it was all Lux all the time. And…well, running Lux was so much harder than it looked. Add being Lucifer’s personal assistant on top of it? It made your life a living Hell.

You laid down some ground rules after three weeks straight of nothing but Work: Monday and Tuesday you were Unavailable. You did not exist on Mondays and Tuesdays. Nothing, not even the end of the world, could get you off your couch between 12:00 AM Monday morning, to 11:59 PM Tuesday evening. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

So why were you standing in front of Lux in the middle of said unavailable Monday morning?

You clutched your beaten backpack in one hand as you struggled to dredge through the memories, staring up at the sleek silver sign of the club. It took time, but once you made it to the center of your Monday morning memory block, you recalled exactly why you had ended up at Lux’s front doors.

You withdrew from your classes to take the rest of the semester off, and evaluate if you even wanted to finish school. It was a blow to your pride. The meeting itself was difficult as you struggled not to cry while you explained to each of your professors that you needed to leave their classes. They gave the normal nods, the _I understands_ , but you could tell from the looks on their faces that they didn’t expect you back. To them, you were just another drop out.

It made the upset anxiety turn into boiling anger.

You clutched your bag tighter, adjusted it on your back, and pushed the doors open to the club.

Maze was right where you expected her to be – behind the counter, taking inventory of the alcohol. She threw a cursory glance over her shoulder, then turned completely around, eyes only a fraction wider than normal. “You made Lucifer sign a piece of paper saying he couldn’t call you on Monday,” she pointed out.

You dropped your bag on the counter. “I left school,” you said.

She shrugged and set a glass on the counter before you. “Good,” she scoffed as she poured two fingers of the finest whiskey she had, “You were too good for that place.” She offered you the glass. When you declined, she took a sip instead. “A bunch of humans thinking they’re smarter than everyone else.” Her lip curled as she sucked on her teeth.

“Actually, that’s why I came by.” You upended your bag, sending a collection of old boxing wraps, gloves, and mitts scattering across the bar. “I wanna hit something.”

Maze moaned, taking in everything you had spilled on the counter. She looked up at you. “Have I told you that I enjoy you being here, yet?” She picked up the wraps. “You even practice safety in the gym.” She hissed, slow and sultry, and met your gaze.

Your jutted your jaw and widened your eyes. “Yeah, because I want ever trip to the gym to be oddly sexual,” you mumbled.

Maze scoffed and dropped the wraps. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, Mazikeen, that is not the point of the gym,” you sighed.

She squinted, and sipped her drink. “Then why do human women wear tight clothing there?”

There was another one. Human, said as if she wasn’t one, but merely observing another species. It reminded you of an anthropologist, and created disturbing images of Maze in a Jane Goodall hat. You pursed your lips in a lemon pout. You didn’t really like that image, but didn’t say anything. Let her keep her weird vocabulary.

You sighed and shook your head. “Why do you, Mazikeen?”

“Maze.” Her correction snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could ask, she downed the rest of her drink. “Because I know that this,” she waved to her body, “Is delectable.” She slammed the glass onto the bar a little too hard. “It’s like a candy wrapper.”

“No.”

“You know, leather, and yoga pants.”

“That’s not it at all, Maze.”

“Sports bras.”

“Maze.”

“Especially the ones with the zipper in the front?”

You started to shove your work out gear back into the bag.

“Do you have sweat pants?” she asked. She tilted her head as she leaned on the bar. “Yoga pants?” You bounced a wrap roll off her shoulder.

“Stop,” you drawled impatiently. “I came to invite you, and now you’re being weird about it.” You shouldered the bag once everything was collected.

She sat up, spine straightening to the point that something popped. “Wait, you actually PAY to go use someone else’s equipment to work out?” she asked. You nodded, and earned a scoff. “No. No, no, no.” Maze rounded the bar and took your bag. “You can fight me. Here. Right now.” She pulled on a pair of target gloves. “I’ll teach you how to fight a hellion.”

So she did. She did just that for almost five hours. Maze decided that it was best to give you a break when you stumbled over your own feet, fell onto the steps of club, and couldn’t get back up.

“Are you beating up on our administration staff already, Maze?” You dropped your head back, and followed the motion until you were lying on the floor, to see Lucifer standing behind you. He was fixing a cufflink, and arched an eyebrow at your compromising position, with a smile worming across his face. “Oh, hello.”

Maze shouted your name from across Lux as she said, “Wanted to fight!”

Lucifer crouched to help you sit up, and took the space next to you. “Now, why the Me would you do something as silly as that?” he asked. He took your hand, undid your glove, and proceeded to roll your wraps off your scorching skin.

You heaved a heavy sigh, motioning to Maze. “She said it.”

“Well yes, but why?” he asked again. His fingers were cold on your wrist. Your pulse jumped. As the wrap left your hand and he started on the other one, you explained what happened. “No?” You mimicked the question, voice high and confused as he removed the second wrap completely. “No, why did you leave school? The point was to **do** school, and keep working!”

You yanked the things from his hands and stood. “One, I can’t do jack—”

“How about Jill?” Lucifer quipped. You rolled your eyes and headed back to the bar, shoving your items into the bag. Maze had come around the other side, and stared at her phone as she dumped ingredients into a blender. Before you could speak, she turned it on, stared at the chocolate brown concoction inside. Lucifer joined you at the bar to watch Maze stop the blender, pour the mixture into a tall glass, and drop it in front of you.

You arched an eyebrow. “What’s this?” you asked.

She shrugged. “A protein shake.” She looked at her phone. “This says its necessary for humans that work out, because like…muscle things, or whatever.” She looked back up at you. “I kicked your ass, you’re probably gonna be sore.” You tilted the glass towards you. “It’s chocolate,” Maze stated, “Don’t humans like chocolate?”

You sipped it. It was thick, and delicious, and so chocolatey you couldn’t taste the protein in it. You downed the shake without taking a break. It left a thin mustache of chocolate across your top lip. You sighed.

“Feel better?” Lucifer asked. You nodded slowly. “So, why did you leave school again?”

Maze whispered something you couldn’t hear as you turned to him ever so slowly. “Really?”

“Well, yes!” Lucifer adjusted his cufflink again. “I assumed you would continue during your employment here!”

You took a deep, slow inhale through your nose. Exhaled. Slid the glass towards Maze with a soft thank you, and went off:

“First of all, how am I supposed to do ANYTHING in my private life when I’m supposed to be at your beck and call twenty-four seven? Why do you think I **demanded** to have Monday and Tuesday off? Hm?” you shouted. Lucifer started to open his mouth. “That was **rhetorical** , you dingus. Secondly—” You snatched your bag off the bar to emphasis your words, “Secondly, I was failing. And it’s only for the semester.”

“What, how are you failing?” Lucifer asked. He tutted as you started to walk away, grabbing your arm and turning you back towards the bar. “No, no, no, sit. Explain.” He waved his hands. “Tell me everything!”

“It’s stupid, Lucifer—in fact, it’s already done, I talked to everyone I needed to this morning—”

“No, no, no!!” he protested again. He patted the bar. “First, you tell me what happened! And then we’ll figure out why.” He nodded, and turned to you with a satisfied look. “First rule of Detective School.”

You shook your head, but settled onto the stool he had perched you on, bag dangling from your fingers. “They just told me that my work wasn’t up to par,” you said. You shrugged. “That was it. I mean…it’s the same caliber of work I’ve been doing, better even, and I can’t…” You sighed and dropped your bag to cover your face.

When you looked back up, Maze and Lucifer were exchanging glances. The latter turned his attention back to you, a frown knitting his brow together. “What did you do in school, if I may ask?” he pondered.

“A little of everything?” you sighed. “I uh, I hadn’t really picked a major, but I had enough credits for, like…English, Criminal Justice, uh…a minor or two—”

“Why on Earth would you take so many classes, did you want to kill yourself?” he cut in.

You shrugged. “I have a plethora of unmedicated, and undiagnosed, mental illnesses that I tried to drown out with topics that I highly enjoyed,” you answered.

Maze knocked her knuckles against the bar. Lucifer hummed. “Right, so, we need to introduce you to Linda later, but please,” he shifted in his seat, “Continue.”

Your mouth tightened into an o of confusion as you stared at him. “What do you mean send me to…Linda?”

“Oh, well, Linda is this wonderful therapist I’ve been seeing while here on Earth, and if you say you have these mental illnesses – hold on, is that what you meant before by ‘brain thing’?”

“….Maybe. But that also wasn’t the point of this conversation,” you prompted. But you frowned. Pouted. Looked up at Lucifer. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He straightened his coat as he cleared his throat, tilting his head just a tad. “Oh, well, you’re quite welcome.”

“The school,” Maze cut in loudly.

You cleared your throat and nodded. “Yeah, uh…” You swallowed. “They just said my work wasn’t cutting it. All of them.” You frowned. “I just don’t understand, my work was….amazing. I mean, I had a ton of shorts stories for Creative Writing that my professor wanted to publish them? And my Criminology professor was going to write me a letter of recommendation for the police academy, so…” You sighed and stared at your hands. “This was just last semester, so I don’t know how things changed.”

Lucifer hummed. When you looked up, he was staring towards the ground in contemplation. “Interesting,” he murmured.

You shrugged, and jumped off the stool, scooping your bag up. “It’s life, actually.” You heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna go up to my apartment and shower and…probably eat ice cream for the rest of the day.”

“Nonsense!” Lucifer stood and buttoned his blazer. “Well, besides the shower—do you want company?”

“Lucifer.”

He smiled. “Knee jerk reaction,” his eyebrows moved up and down as his smile grew. “But don’t just brush this off! Alright? Look, I will personally look into this little matter for you. A favor, if you will.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor,” you stated as you walked up the stairs.

Lucifer slid his hands into his pockets. His coin sat at the bottom, heavy, and smooth. He turned it over in his fingers with a frown. “Favors are done in good faith,” he commented absently. You rolled your eyes as you punched the button for your floor. As you disappeared behind the elevator doors, Lucifer pulled the coin from his pocket. The details were flat, smooth. The raised brushed gold pentagram that scarred your hand was now nothing more than a fanciful paint job that had chipped to reveal the silver beneath it. Lucifer set it on the bar and scratched at it with his nail until it all flaked away.

It wasn’t even a coin, just a single flattened metal disk. Lucifer scoffed as he held it up between his fingers. “That’s interesting,” he murmured.

Maze leaned into the space in front of him. “What happened to the Pentecostal coin?” she asked.

“I don’t think it was one at all,” he breathed. He released it, and spun it in the space between his fingers. One side was beautiful detailed, the other scratched away and plain. His eyes widened and he smiled. “Oh, this is interesting.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, guys!! I'm sorry this is late (I've posted it already over on Tumblr), but I hope you'll enjoy it! :D

Linda’s office was in a smaller, comfortable office building, with bright windows, soft chairs, and a couch that you sank in to almost too much. She smiled as you looked around her beautiful office, lowering herself into the chair across from you. You drummed your hands on your knees, then pulled one of the pillows over into your lap to hug it tight.

“You’re nervous,” Linda pointed out.

“Oh, my heart feels like it’s gonna flutter up my throat and out my mouth,” you replied with a high, rattling laugh. You stuttered, and felt your voice catch, dropping it into a whisper, “I’ve never done therapy, I’ve never had the money—”

“Well, I know you have insurance,” Linda said with a nod as she grabbed a file from the coffee table. “Lucifer sent over a copy of the card—why does he have your insurance card?”

“He’s Lucifer, I don’t think he realizes he shouldn’t open my mail,” you pointed out. You sighed and fell back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “But, I-I-I can’t complain! I mean….he gave me job, he gave me a place to stay, he’s paying me so much money, and all these perks, and it—” You stopped as you squeezed the pillow, sitting up. Your voice dropped back down to a whisper, “He said it was a favor, all so I could give him a coin? But, I won’t lie, this feels like Sugar Daddy thing? And I don’t? Know what to do about this.”

Linda set your file down. “You don’t know what to do about your situation? Or how you feel about it?” she asked. When you couldn’t answer, she smiled. “Has anyone every treated you this way before? Completely over the top?”

“Uh…no.”

“Have **you** treated yourself this way before?” she asked.

You scoffed faintly, a small, bitter smile tugging at your lips. “I drown myself in work so that I don’t have to think of myself, so no, I don’t.” You looked up. “I mean, I get delivery.”

“That doesn’t count,” Linda pointed out. She crossed her legs, and frowned. “Why don’t…you tell me about yourself.”

You hugged the pillow and looked down. “Suuure…”

After an hour and a half, Linda sent you out with neatly penned prescriptions – anxiety, depression, and sleep – and her phone number. It was sweet of her to do, and you thanked her multiple times for it. She then demanded you see her every Monday, like clock work, and that if you missed she would find you.

You didn’t doubt that.

So you took the bus, filled your prescriptions, and headed back to Lux, more exhausted than you had been when you woke up. Walking through the doors, you yawned, and stretched, and fumbled your keys in search of your own.

Lucifer grabbed your arm and tugged you backwards, out the door and into the sunlight. “There you are! Do you not have your phone? I’ve been calling you for HOURS.”

“I? What?” You stumbled as he dragged you.

“I have been calling you, yes.” He righted you, smiled, and straightened your clothing with wandering hands. “I know you have your phone, you always have it.”

“Why does that matter?” He headed towards his car, jingling the keys. “Listen, I just got back from visiting Linda, I’d like to relax?”

“And do what, read?” He scoffed as he opened the door. “C’mon, get in. We’re doing some investigation.” You stood still on the curb, shaking your head, shrugging as you watched him roll his eyes. “Please?”

  
“It’s my day off,” you commented. You waved your free hand around. “Monday?” You let your hands slap your thighs as you dropped them. “I don’t have to listen to you, and I don’t have to get in your car.” You turned away.

“I want to investigate your school mates,” he called after you. You groaned as you turned back to him. “You know, see if there’s anything fishy, I believe is the term. Maybe question your professors.”

“Why?”

“Well that’s what friends are for, of course!” You sighed again, rolling your eyes. “If you’re done with the broody teenage sighing, we can head off.” Lucifer patted the door before walking around the front of the corvette. You climbed into the low seat, shoved your bag between your feet, and leaned back against the seat. He pulled away from the curb. “So? Off to the university, yes?”

You sighed, letting it melt into a groan as you dug into your bag. The water was there, given to you by Linda when you saw her, and you swallowed the biggest of gulps to down your brand new medications. “Yup…”

You felt Lucifer’s eyes on you as you dropped your head back against the head rest. “Alright now, out with it. What’s got your undies in a bunch?”

“Ever since the semester started, just thinking of campus has made me anxious as hell,” you answered. You shook your head. “Maybe it’s just me being paranoid? Maybe I really couldn’t take it all.”

“Nonsense!” You blinked at the loud exclamation. It left your left ear ringing and you wondered if your medication had kicked it quicker than you thought. Lucifer pulled over to the curb, turning in his seat to face you once he parked. “What in the world makes you think that, hm? You have, singlehandedly mind you, raised our profits by tens of thousands since you’ve been here!”

“Uh-huh?”

“So, going to the university, it should be simple! You deal with much more stressful situations that a simple paper about ethical dilemmas.” He nodded. “Besides, Kant is an obnoxious knob who worked himself up into guilty knots.” It was hard to agree with him when your head swam. You dropped your head back against the seat again. “Do you want to go? I feel I should have asked that before.”

“No, I told you that,” you ground out. You patted your bag, which still sat in your lap, and held up the bottle of anxiety medication. Where were the side effects listed?

“Oh, what’s this?” He snatched the bottle away and rolled it around. “Interesting that Dr. Linda would give you hard medications, but good on her.”

“Can you not?” You leaned up and took the bottle back, shoving it into your bag. “Look, can we get this trip over with, I really don’t wanna draw this out longer than necessary.”

UCLA’s campus gave you a sense of nostalgia as Lucifer drove through it. Or maybe it was the anxiety medication, it was really hard to tell the difference. As he pulled into a parking lot, you climbed out of the corvette and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Ah. So.” Lucifer shut the door with thud. You squeezed your eyes shut. It rattled your skull. “Where to? The naughty professor—you know, I did always find that trope rather arousing.”

“Can you please keep it in your pants?”

“Rather hard to say,” he answered with a grin. You rolled your eyes and started up the stairs. “I can give it to you, if you’d like!” He hurried after you. “I can go all day!” You yanked the doors open and stalked in, only running smack into the professor you had spoken of—a middle aged man with grey stubble and a full head of hair.

You swallowed, ducked your head, and apologized as you walked inside. Lucifer glanced back at the man as he followed you. “Who—”

“My professor,” you puffed. Lucifer arched his eyebrow as he straightened his coat, turning back towards the door. “No! Please, I—”

“Not to worry, I can speak with him without you, now that I know what he looks like,” Lucifer murmured. He turned to you with a smile that held all the charm of a snake. “Where’s his office, darling?” You motioned towards the elevator with a mumble that sounded like the third floor, and sat on one of the many couches that littered the foyer of the building. You dropped your bag between your feet and doubled over with your head in your hands. “Are you alright?” he asked as he walked over.

“No, no, like I have said for the past hour.” You snapped your head up and stared at him, “I am not alright. This whole thing is a disaster, and I would rather not deal with going through the stress of being here again, Lucifer.”

Lucifer lowered himself onto the seat next to you with a guilty frown. “I didn’t realize that this affected you so much.”

“Are you—” The antique clock in the lobby chimed for one in the afternoon, “—Kidding me?”

“Now, now, no need to swear,” Lucifer chided. He unbuttoned his coat as he shifted towards you. “Tell me, dear, what do you truly desire?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes at him, felt a hum in your ears. “What could I give you that could make you better, hm?”

“What do I desire?” you asked. He nodded as a smile crept across his face. “Right now?” The smile faltered. “To not be here, because being here is torture,” you answered.

“But is that really what you want in life?” he asked.

You shook your head lightly as you stood, snagging your bag from the floor. “What, no, it’s what I want right now,” you replied. You waved at the door. “Let’s go, you can come back and do whatever you want with the professor or whatever when I’m not here.” You propped the door open. “Let’s go,” you ushered, wheeling your arms.

Lucifer patted his pocket as he stood, feeling the smooth coin press against his fingers. “Right, of course.” He followed you out to the Corvette, but stopped. “Where did you say you found the coin again?” he asked as he stopped.

You dropped your bag into the foot well as you looked up. “What?”

“The coin you gave me, where did you get it?” he asked again.

You threw your hands up with a huff, and planted your fists on your hips. “I told you, I found it on the curb out in front of Lux when I was walking past.”

“Yes, well, you didn’t plant it there, did you?” he asked.

Your mouth opened as you stared at him with narrowed eyes. “No, Lucifer, that is the opposite of finding it.” You reached over the door and pulled the lock free, climbing into the seat.

Lucifer nodded slowly as he followed, and turned the car over. He paused as he put the Corvette in drive. “Your professor, what is his name?”

“Manfred Sutherland,” you answered. You looked over as he eased the car out of the parking lot. “Why…?”

“Oh, just curious.” He smiled and it only made you worry more. “This way I can go see your professor whenever I please.”

He dropped you off in front of Lux with a smile, a wave, and permission to raid his penthouse for any alcohol that you wished, then left with little else to say. You swung your bag around and headed back inside, shaking your head. “Whatever,” you muttered, “Go ham.”


	5. Chapter Five

You literally stared at the seconds tick up towards five o’clock. The music had already started to pulse through Lux, and you just wanted to go upstairs, and sleep. Was that actually going to happen? No, and you knew it, but what harm did a little wishful thinking do?

Ten seconds until five, and Lucifer threw open your door.

“Grab your things, the Detective has a case.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have jinxed yourself. You still found yourself standing and grabbing your coat. “I’m not a detective.”

“You can’t say you aren’t excited by a little mystery.” Lucifer shut your office door and trailed after you. He danced around your shoulder and led you expertly around a man in a tan trench coat, whose shoulder clipped yours. You glanced back. His eyes flicked between you, then Lucifer, before he continued towards the bar. “Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s a regular,” Lucifer commented. He tilted his head, and absently said, “Or should I say constant.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted. He took your arm and led you outside. “Do you want to hear what this case is about?” he asked, “Or.” He tapped the doors of the Corvette. “Do you want hear about your class situation?” You arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should tell you both, and see which one you like better.” He opened the door, and dramatically gestured to the seat.

You climbed in. “I really don’t want to be out long, Lucifer,” you mumbled.

“Nonsense!” The car roared to life before he touched the ignition. You squinted. You’d never noticed that he could do that before…maybe it was an AutoStart? “It’s a Friday, and the weather is lovely – perfect for staying out all hours.”

“N….no….”

“Anyway, let’s start with your professor.” He pulled out into the street. You opened the glove box. “After visiting his house—”

“You found his house?” You snapped it closed when you found nothing of interest.

“Maze is very good at finding humans, it’s thrilling,” he continued, “You should follow her on one of her hunts! I think you’d both learn a lot from each other.” You leveled him with a withering stare, and he smiled. “We got him to confess. Someone had been buying him off to fail you. Maze is looking into the others on your impressive transcript, but one would assume it’s the same for the rest.”

You leaned back in your seat. “Someone wanted me to fail?” you whispered.

“To be fair, you were very well liked amongst your professors,” Lucifer pointed out. He pulled up to a light, revving the engine as a car crept into the lane next to him. “Now, what is the next problem, hm?”

You stared at him beneath the L.A. street lights, watching the way his brown eyes caught the light. They looked red, like iron rich clay. “What, do you have a laundry list of things you wanna solve, and my problems are at the top?” you murmured.

“I told you I would figure out why you were failing your classes, and I did,” he replied. He shrugged as he pulled away from the light, and turned down another road. “Perhaps I just want to solve the rest of your problems!”

“You already have,” you pointed out.

“Why were they going to boot you from your apartment, hm? I have been curious, you don’t seem the type to shirk on your payments.” He turned down another street, and a third, until he was in a residential area of massive homes and manicured, green lawns. The street lamps were bright white, and the stop signs were pristine. You watched the lights of the neighboring houses flick on as you grew closer to the crime scene.

“I didn’t,” you answered. Lucifer opened your door for you. “I never once missed a rent payment.”

“Exactly!” He shut the door harder than necessary. “Is that not strange?”

“I live in a beautiful building with the most impressive apartment I have ever seen? I really don’t care anymore,” you said.

“Well I do!” Lucifer exclaimed. He straightened his coat. “So I’ll look into it!”

You started up the driveway, slowing as someone behind the crime scene tape met your gaze – a short girl, with large glasses, and a bowl cut. She smiled, lifted her hand in a small wave, and then Lucifer stepped between the two of you to gain your attention. “You don’t have to,” you finally commented.

He shrugged as he fell in step with you. “I want to. And I don’t believe you have the power to stop me.” He smiled as he spoke. You rolled your eyes.

An officer, one taller than you, with enough muscle to strain the sleeves of her uniform, stopped you both with a brilliant smile. “Sorry,” she chirped, “But this is a closed crime scene!”

Lucifer tilted his head. “I’m sorry, do I know you? You look awfully familiar…”

She tilted her head, and you watched her silky brunette ponytail swish behind her head. “I’m not sure? I mean, we might’ve spoken in passing—”

“No, it’s not here that we met, I’m sure of it…”

Chloe’s voice cut through his musings, “He brought you again?” She patted the woman’s arm and smiled, asking her to secure another part of the crime scene, before she took her place in front of you.

You shrugged. “I’ve stopped trying to tell him no, it doesn’t really work when he wants to drag me somewhere.” She glanced at her watch, looked at you, then turned her gaze to Lucifer. You nodded. “I’m well aware that I’m off the clock,” you commented.

“Not when the case came in!” Lucifer pointed out. He looped an arm over your shoulder. “Did you know that my lovely assistant has a transcript just riddled with criminal justice classes?” he asked. Your voice mixed with Chloe’s in a litany of confused questions and musings on how it was important. He waved his hand. “I could use another set of eyes, and this is just proof as to why—”

“I can be them?” you cut in. You shook your head. “I’d rather not, thanks.”

Chloe sighed. “It can’t hurt,” she mumbled, “I mean, we already have Lucifer.” The Devil clapped, and slipped between the two of you to head into the house. “You’ll at least wear gloves, right?” she asked you.

You turned to her with wide eyes and a whispered question of, “He doesn’t wear gloves?” She shook her head. A wheeze pushed through your lips and you sighed. A box of purple latex gloves sat in plain view, right next to Lucifer. You made a point of yanking out one pair, and held out another.

“Oh, no thank you, they make my hands sweat,” he commented. You flapped the gloves at him. He turned to you with wide eyes, and mouthed ‘no’.

“Don’t be a prima donna,” you hissed.

He turned sharply, and smiled, sighing between his teeth. “Will you let me look into your land lord if I put the bloody gloves on?” he asked.

“Seriously?”

“I’m the Devil, I’m always serious.”

“Bullshit.”

“I also never lie,” he added. He held his hands out to you, wiggling his fingers as you tried to slip on the first glove. “I’m a little offended that you would think that of me.” You snapped the edge of the glove against his wrist. “Oh! That hurt!” He leaned in. “Do it again.”

“I will stomp on your Louboutin’s if you continue to be nasty,” you whispered.

He hummed. “I’m impressed! Not everyone can tell they’re Louboutin.” He grasped your shoulders and turned you towards the crime scene. “Precisely why you should be here. Use those sharp human eye balls of yours to find any clues.”

Chloe stared at the both of you. The woman kneeling next to the body looked up with a confused smile. “Uh…”

“Miss Lopez, this is my assistant,” Lucifer said, introducing you with a smile as he led you around the body. You nodded slowly, and sighed, and held out your hand. Lucifer repeated your name as he released you, “This is Ella Lopez, the forensics scientist behind the LAPD.”

Ella jumped up and threw her arms around you. “It’s so nice to meet you!” She released you with a grin. “Finally, I mean, you’ve been the talk of the precinct – Lucifer has an assistant? That’s so wild!” She leaned in to whisper, “Does he do the method acting thing all the time, or is it just around all of us?”

You smiled, slowly, and shrugged. “Hard to say. All the legal paperwork for Lux says Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Enough talking about me,” Lucifer scoffed. He waved to the body between you. “There’s a case to solve, isn’t there? Come now, I can’t be the only one focusing on it.” You rolled your eyes, stepped back, and waited. Maybe if you just didn’t touch anything, it would make you being there alright.

And at least Lucifer had gloves.

That was a plus.


	6. Chapter Six

You discovered that, after a long day in your office, the combination of lights and loud sounds that Lux had to offer made you leave your body in about fourteen different ways. You blinked as the songs transitioned, finding at least a part of your mind coming back while the bass thumped to a different beat. There was a glass of water in front of you – one you didn’t remember ordering – and someone leaning over your side to try to get your attention. You honestly thought you might have been drunk when it took you a moment to focus on their face.

They was a she, a lovely blonde woman with a nervous smile. “Is this seat taken?” she asked a little too loudly.

“Uh…” You picked up your glass and turned away from the bar, shaking your head. “Nope. Not at all.” She sat. You squinted. You recognized her; you knew you did—she’d been around Lux a lot in the past few weeks. Almost every day since you had started working there. You hadn’t gotten a chance to meet her, though – Lucifer made a point to steer you, or her, clear of the other. You held out your hand and introduced yourself. She took it with a smile. “I’m the…” You narrowed your eyes. “I’m Lucifer’s personal assistant,” you said instead.

“I’m Charlotte.” You thought she said that. It was terribly hard to tell beneath the growing bass and thrumming music. She repeated herself louder, tucking her head closer to yours, and you nodded.

“Nice to meet you, Charlotte!” you shouted.

She settled into the seat next to you, and waited for you to turn back to the bar, before asking, “Have we met before?”

You frowned. “Lucifer’s made it a point that we haven’t yet.”

Charlotte quickly swallowed the sip in her mouth. “I’ve noticed that my son has a tendency for that!”

You stared at her. “Mom?” you repeated. She nodded as she drained more of her drink. “You’re Lucifer’s mom?”

“You know, people seem very surprised when I tell them that,” Charlotte responded. You stared at her, really stared, until she looked down at herself, and then back at you. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing just…” You couldn’t put your finger on what it was. There was something about Charlotte, though – not just her saying she was Lucifer’s mom, even though that was strange – something different. “Nothing.” The two of you chatted for a few minutes longer, until you finished your water, and she found someone else to catch her attention.

You watched the water the bartender refilled your glass with. It sparkled with beautiful, crystalline rainbows right up to the moment Charlotte left your side.

You stuck around for a while afterwards, taking your fill of water and the occasional spirit, until your face was just on the other side of warm. As you left the bathroom for the third time that evening, you were greeted with Lucifer’s piano playing. It was a song you knew – a popular one played on the radio. His voice filled the club. You leaned on the rail and stared, struck with the fact that you had never heard Lucifer sing before.

A hand squeezed your elbow. You glanced up and smiled as you found Chloe next to you. “It’s weird, huh?” she asked as she motioned towards Lucifer. “He sings really well. You would never guess he’s…”

“Lucifer?” you offered. She smiled. “Stories say Lucifer was the greatest of the angels.”

Her eyes widened just a smidge. “Lucifer isn’t angelic,” she pointed out.

You laughed and shook your head as you agreed. “That’s an understatement.” You tilted your head, watching as Chloe made herself comfortable against the rail. “What brings you here so late?” You motioned absently to her, to the badge still on her belt. “Did you just get done with work?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s uh,” Chloe turned to you. The piano faded as the song ended, and the music picked up with a faster beat. “That’s why I came! That case we had? With the murder victim, in the house—”

“Yeah, that really nice place?”

“Guy came in and confessed.”

You widened your eyes. “Seriously? That must have been the easiest case for you,” you said.

She snorted faintly. “Yeah, actually. Still have to pay Lucifer that consultant fee, but it’s okay.”

You tapped your hands against the rail. “Hey, do you know Lucifer’s mom?” you suddenly asked. Chloe hummed. “I met her. She’s a little odd? And WOW, she’s young?”

“You know, that’s what I thought too.” She motioned for the bar, and you started back down to it. “But she’s alright.”

Lucifer approached before you could reach the bar, calling your name as he approached. “Detective,” he added, nodding. “Now I know you enjoy a drink, but you can’t keep my assistant out late like this.” You and Chloe exchanged incredulous glances. Chloe patted her pockets and pulled the check she mentioned out. “Oh? What’s this?”

“Really?” Chloe asked, “It’s your check, you know that.”

“Of course, I know, I’m joking.” Lucifer folded the check and slipped it into his suit coat pocket. “Want to stay?” he asked as he leaned on the rail. You noticed how close the two were. A bubble welled in your chest.

“Actually, Dan and I have plans tomorrow,” Chloe answered.

“Detective Dan?” You asked as you leaned around her.

“Detective Douche?” Lucifer asked. You stared at him. He shrugged. “It’s his name.”

“No, it’s not,” You replied.

Chloe waved her hand. “Yes, we decided that we’re going to work on things.” When Lucifer opened his mouth, you plucked an ice cube from the man’s glass next to you, mumbling a quick sorry, before throwing it at the Devil. He gaped at you.

“Don’t start.”

“I hadn’t said a word!” he exclaimed.

Chloe patted the rail, gave your arm another squeeze, and pushed away. “I’ve gotta get going. Don’t have too late of a night, okay?” she managed to say between songs. You nodded and wished her a good night as she left.

Lucifer scoffed. “The Detective? Back together with Detective Douche?” There was such an emphasis on _douche_ that you thought he might break something. “This is a disaster.”

You crossed your arms. “I’ll say.” He threw up his arms as he turned to you. “You’re jealous?”

“No!” he sputtered. He crossed his arms; set his hands on his hips; tugged his suit jacket into place. Finally, he pulled his phone from his coat. “I’m calling a few friends for a gathering upstairs, care to join?” he rushed to say.

You rolled your eyes. The bubble settled in your chest. “No, I’m going home.” You took the phone from him before he could press send and stared. “Please get some rest?” you suggested, “It’s late.”

He plucked the phone from your fingers. “I’ll rest when the party is over,” he answered. He lifted the phone to his ear.

You turned away and left to the elevator.

The morning came too soon, and the California sun was unforgiving. You shuffled through your apartment in slippers and your favorite pants, wondering how low you could turn your air conditioner. You found out, forty-five minutes later, it was to sixty degrees. You donned a sweatshirt as you made breakfast.

A knock on your door made you pause, a fork halfway to your mouth and a plate in your hand. The knocking started again. You shoveled a bite of food into your mouth as you made your way to the door.

Charlotte whipped around when you opened it, standing in the hall in bright Louboutin’s and a pencil skirt. You squinted at her. You couldn’t even remember if you showered last night, but here she was fully made up and ready for the day.

“How did you find my apartment?” you finally asked, mouth full of breakfast.

She opened her mouth, closed it, lifted a hand to her chin. “That’s not that important,” she finally said. She stepped past you and through your door. “Can I come in?”

You were starting to see the resemblance. She eyed your old couch, then the older chair with the stain on the arm, then perched carefully on the arm of the couch with a look of trepidation. “Yesterday, I said you looked familiar. Do you remember?” she asked.

You leaned on your kitchen bar to take another bite of your food. “Is that seriously what you came here to ask?”

“Well…” She sighed through her nose as she sat up. “There’s really only one place that you’d possibly be familiar.” She started across your living room towards you. “And it’s odd that I would see you here, of all places!” She crossed her arms. Her brow furrowed. “That you would be at Lux, with my son, who was also where I was, and—” She stopped short when you continued to eat. “Does none of this sound familiar to you?”

You shook your head. “I met Lucifer like…” You shrugged and waved your fork. “Two months ago.”

Charlotte closed the gap between you two faster than you expected. You gripped the counter and pulled yourself onto it, trying to get space between the two of you. “See, that’s impossible!” she said with a frantic laugh, “Because I know you from _somewhere_ , and—”

“Mum?” You snapped your head to the side to find Lucifer standing in your doorway. In your peripheral, Charlotte clenched her fists in front of her. Lucifer adjusted his cuffs. “What are you doing here?”

You turned yourself around on the counter and jumped off in your kitchen, putting a great distance and an object between yourself and Charlotte. Setting your plate in the sink, you cleared your throat. “Nothing,” you answered for her.

Charlotte’s eyes widened as Lucifer turned to you. You shrugged. “It’s fine, nothing happened, just a weird conversation.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He joined you, a frown on his face. “Mum has a habit of—”

“It’s fine,” you cut in. You turned to Charlotte. “Maybe we can talk about the whole thing later?” you asked. “Because you do have a point.” She stared at you for a beat too long, which drew Lucifer’s attention to you once again. You nodded faintly. Charlotte nodded as well, until a look of realization dawned across her face.

“Oh,” she whispered. She clapped her hand together. “Right. Of course.” She stepped back towards the door. “We can talk later.” You nodded until she left.

The California sun seemed dimmer through your windows.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Lucifer asked quietly.

You nodded as you looked up at him. “Is there a reason you didn’t want me to meet your mom?” you asked softly.

His eyebrow arched just a tad as his eyes widened a smidge and his fingers tugged at his cufflinks. Small things. Lying things. “There isn’t,” he finally said. He cleared his throat. “She’s overbearing, like Mums. I told you that when I hired you: I needed help to keep her from dropping in all the time.”

You couldn’t help the frown that tugged down your lips. “Right…” You finally yawned and stretched your arms above your head. “What do you have planned for today, Luci?” you asked. It made him smile.

The bubble in your chest finally melted away.


	7. Chapter Seven

You were finding your days off to be quiet. You had contemplated returning to studying, more so you were prepared for if you returned to school, then you considered publishing some of the things you wrote when you were in school, and decided against that when you found you didn’t have enough shorter stories to put together for a collection.

So, instead, you got dressed in the clothes you found were the cutest on you and headed out. Maze stopped you as soon as you stepped off the elevator, a sultry laugh on her lips.

“What is this?” she asked slowly. She fanned her face as she started around you. You, in turn, rolled your eyes and started for the door. “You dressed for Lucifer?” she asked.

That made you stop. “No?” came your incredulous voice. You turned to her. “Why would I be dressed like this for Lucifer?”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Well…” You pursed your lips. “I don’t know,” you confessed. She rolled her eyes this time. “Maybe I just want a day out of my apartment. Hm?”

“Looking like a snack?” she asked.

You twirled your keys and shoved them in your pocket. “Good-bye, Maze.”

As you head for the door, she shouted, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That’s not much!” you shouted back. When you were outside, you headed for the bus stop, trying to think of where you wanted to go. When you looked at the time, an idea came to you. You pulled out your phone, searched for Chloe’s name, and called.

She picked up on the second ring. “Are you looking for Lucifer?” she immediately asked.

You thumped your hand against your thigh, digging your money out of your pocket once the bus pulled up. “No?” You made your way to a seat in the back. “Why?” you drawled.

“Could you be?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s on a roll today about _something_ and I don’t need him around when I’m trying to do paperwork, or—” Her voice fell away from the phone, directed at someone else. “—Or trying to use my log in for something!”

“I’m doing detective work, Detective!” Lucifer’s whine came through. “Is that not what this database is for?”

“What work?” Chole snapped. You heard a struggle when he didn’t answer. “Get out of my chair.” Her voice was even further away.

“Are you on the phone? Who are you talking to?” Lucifer asked. He must have seen your name, because his voice was suddenly in your ear. “Tell the Detective that I’m working a case for you!”

“Give me my phone.”

“What? No, not until you know that I’m doing actual work here.”

“Give it—” There were obvious sounds of a scuffle before the call ended. You leaned back in your seat, staring at the phone. Glancing out the window, you calculated it was about two stops and another bus that would take you to the police station and settled in for the ride.

Lucifer was still there when you arrived. You told the desk you were there to help escort him out, and they were more than happy to let you past the desk. When you walked down into the bank of desks, you slowed, and finally stopped completely.

Lucifer was in a chair, which was rolled away from any desk, and was fastened to it with tape around one wrist. Chloe was crouched in front of her desk, no chair in sight, and a look of irritation on her face.

Dan, on the other hand, looked up as you stepped off the stairs. He held his pudding in one hand and grinned. “It’s been like this for half an hour,” he whispered. He waved his spoon in Lucifer’s direction. “He used all the tape on Chlo’s desk and now he can’t figure out how to get out of it.”

Lucifer rolled back to Chloe’s desk as you and Dan talked. “Can I—will you give me the scissors?”

“No,” Chloe answered. Lucifer rolled the chair around the desk. Without taking her eyes off the screen, she reached past her monitor and took the scissors from the cup they sat in. You could hear Lucifer’s annoyed inhale. He turned the chair and shoved against the floor, rolling past you and Dan, to another desk. Before he reached it, Chloe snapped her attention to the office sitting at it. “Do not give him your scissors.”

Lucifer noticed you as he banged into the divider, shouting your name with as much energy as he could handle. “Are you here to prove me right? That I was actually working a case?”

“I don’t think you can have a case if you’re not a cop or a private investigator?” you tried.

Chloe stood with a soft but triumphant, “Hah!”

Lucifer hummed. “What would I need to do to be a private investigator?” Chloe groaned. Lucifer, in turn, directed his chair towards the lab door, craning his head to make sure he was rolling it in the right direction while singing Ella’s name as loud as he could.

“I am so sorry,” you said as you wandered to Chloe’s desk.

“What for?” She tugged her blazer straight. “You didn’t make him a…man-child.” You snorted. She waved to the chair next to her desk. “He did tell me why he was using my computer, though.”

You paused as you sat, looking up to find her staring a hole into your head. “Why didn’t you tell me that your apartment kicked you out for lack of rent?” she asked.

You finally sat with a sigh. “Because I didn’t even want to tell Lucifer?” you tried. She crossed her arms. “It’s really not a big deal, I have a better place to live now.” There was a gleeful shout from the lab. Chloe’s chair raced out of the door.

She sighed. A stack of paper sat by her keyboard, which she picked up and shook. “I looked into it.”

You groaned. “Chloe—”

She held up a hand. “We’ve arrested your landlord.” You snapped your head up. She held up the papers. “This is lease that you signed, with the rent you agreed to. The original. When they said that your rent was going up, they told you it was due to a change in the agreement that you, apparently, signed. Because they forged your signature.” She held out the stack to you. “You can press charges if you want. But you’ll be getting a check for about six thousand dollars in the mail in the next few days.”

You took the papers, staring at her, dazed. You couldn’t believe what she told you. Tears welled in your eyes.

Lucifer was fixing his cuffs when he approached, a smile on his face as he spoke, “You won’t believe what we found—” He stopped, watched your face as you looked down at your old rent agreement. Then, he threw his hands up. “You told—why the me would you do that?!”

“You were busy,” Chloe answered sharply. The cop from before, the pretty brunette with the large smile and the neat bun, approached Chloe’s desk with a report. She nodded at you before she left, squeezing your shoulder as she passed. You squinted as you stared after her.

“Right.” Lucifer grasped your arms and pulled you right up from the chair. “Now. What was the last problem? It was your old job, right?”

You couldn’t help but scoff as you looked up at him. “I told you that my problems are not your problems.”

“What uh…” Chloe crossed her arms. You turned to her, clutching the papers to your chest. “What problems were with your job? I bet we can help.”

You rolled your eyes up to Lucifer. He was grinning. “I hate you,” you muttered.

He sucked on his teeth. “I’ve never heard ‘thank you’ said that way before. It’s quite alright, you are very welcome.”


	8. Chapter Eight

You sat by the windows of your apartment, staring out over the twinkling lights of Los Angeles. You still couldn’t believe your luck – the job with the surprisingly consistent hours, the great pay, the beautiful apartment. The friends you’d made. Not to mention the fact that you hadn’t stressed out about anything for weeks now.

Weeks.

You smiled as you took a drink from your cup and relaxed into your seat. Your television played your favorite show, something you had seen thousands of times, and between it, and the warmth of comfort, you found yourself drifting off for a nap.

Knocking on your door finally roused you from your sleep. It was insistent and continued in a string of steady knocks until you finally opened the door. On the other side was Lucifer, who was looking away and down the hall to the elevator until his fist no longer met a door, and who turned just in time to stop his fist from knocking into your forehead. You stared at him, a little bleary, and tilted your head.

“What time is it?” you groaned.

His mouth slowly opened the longer he stared at you, the awe morphing into an aghast surprise. “Far too early for you to be sleeping on a **Friday** ,” he gasped. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as he pushed past you, walking further into the apartment, followed by the familiar crinkle of paper and a delicious smell of fast food.

You shut the door. “What is that smell?” you whispered.

He dropped a bag onto your kitchen counter. “Dinner,” he proclaimed. He turned to you, shed his coat, and rolled the sleeves of the light blue button up he wore underneath. “If you want it. The Detective—I didn’t know you were such good friends with her, by the way?” He hummed. “Keeping secrets, are we?”

You leaned against the counter next to him, crossing your arms. “I didn’t think it was important?” you said, confused as you eyed the bag in front of him. It smelled familiar. “I am allowed to have friends outside of you.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Like Chloe, and Maze, and Dan—”

“Poor choice.” He started to open the bag.

“I’ve even talked with that Henry guy a couple of times.”

“You what?” He stopped then. You stood on your toes to peek into the bag. A very familiar bright blue aluminum barely poked out through the bag. A bright blue you knew from the diner a few blocks away, a small thing tucked into a corner, between a bar and a barber shop. You gasped and reached for it, earning a smack against the top of your hand. “No, no, only good little devils get free dinner, and good little devils spill the dirty details,” he gasped.

“You brought me dinner?” you asked.

“I brought dinner to someone I didn’t know was sleeping with the dirty little demon, Henry,” he stated.

You stuttered, looking up at him with narrowed eyes and overwhelming confusion. “I’m sorry, when did ‘talking’,” you stressed the word, repeated it again, “Talking, you know, the thing we are doing right now? Turn into sleeping with someone? And…” You crossed your arms again. “Why do you care?”

“Why are you talking to him?”

“Why do you care?” you asked again.

There was a look in his eye, a kind of hesitance that gave so many different answers. He adjusted the waistcoat, a darker blue silk thing that fit him nicely, and looked away. “Is a friend not allowed to care?” he asked softly.

You nodded slowly. “I suppose a friend can,” you whispered.

He cleared his throat and tugged the bag closer to him. “I brought you dinner.” He cleared his throat as he opened the bag once again. “The Detective told me you liked that little diner down the way. I thought, that, well…” He tilted his head, his jaw moving ever so slightly, eyes narrowing.

You leaned into his side to give him a gentle, one-armed hug, while also picking up a few of the seasoned fries. “Thank you.”

He smiled when you looked up at him, a softer smile, and he returned the one-armed hug with one of his own. You popped the fries into your mouth and ducked around him, opening your cabinets for plates. “We’re only friends, you know,” you finally answered. Lucifer hummed as though he hadn’t a clue what you were talking about. You set the plates next to him. “Henry and I.”

“Really hard to be ‘just friends’ with a man with such a large—”

“Lucifer!”

“What?” He met your gaze. The hesitance that once lingered in his eyes was gone now, replaced by his usual mischievous glint, and something soft and gentle. “You really should try it, at least once. Maybe not alone, mind you. And your mouth might be a little small for some of the more fun things.”

“Hey!” You felt your cheeks warm, and your outraged expression brought a smile to his face. You grabbed a plate and moved around him, sitting on the couch, fishing around for the remote that you must have fallen asleep on. “Don’t be nasty.”

“That’s asking me to push away at least half of my personality,” he commented. He fell into the seat next to you. You both reached across and pulled the coffee table closer to you. “Now.” He leaned back, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “What were you watching?”

It was still dark when the last of your movies finished and the lights of L.A. seemed a little dimmer in the windows behind your television. You yawned as the credits rolled, stretching your arms above your head, dislodging yourself from Lucifer’s side. His arm slid down your back. His socked feet shifted on the coffee table, his shoes long discarded, and he pushed himself up from the plush cushions.

“So, the doll was possessed?” he asked slowly.

You looked back. He was rumbled, with a red mark on his cheek from him leaning against your head. “No? That was the point, you know? They said the demon couldn’t possess the doll.”

“Moved it around instead, yes, I heard you,” he mumbled. He tilted his head. “It sounds like something Maze would do.” He checked the time on his phone and whistled, dropping his feet to the carpet. “Well, it’s rather late.”

You stared suspiciously as you picked up the plates. “How late is late…?”

He arched an eyebrow when he looked up. “I’m sure Lux is closed by now.” You whistled as well. As you took the plates back to the kitchen, you heard Lucifer stand, stretch, and grab his things. “I do hate to…well, run…” The words came out awkwardly. You looked up from the sink. “But I should…”

“Right.” You cleared your throat as you picked up his suit coat. “I mean, you live upstairs and everything. Don’t even have to go far.”

“Exactly.”

“And there is work to be done tomorrow,” you added. Lucifer hesitated as he reached for his coat, fingers enclosing around yours.

“What other movies would you recommend?” he murmured.

“About creepy dolls?” you asked, “Or in general?”

“Anything.” He set his coat down and shifted. Glancing down, you noticed he hadn’t even put his shoes back on. “I don’t really want to go back upstairs,” he whispered.

You smiled. “You know? I’m not all that tired.”

Lucifer smiled, very slow, and very bright. “No?”

You grinned. “Have you ever built a blanket fort, Lucifer?”

“I can’t say I have, no,” he mused.

You clapped your hands together. “It’s **really** the only way to enjoy a horror movie. Or any movie.” You waved your hand at him as you hurried past. “I’d take your vest off. You’ll be here a while.”


	9. Chapter Nine

Charlotte Richards could have been a God damn ninja with how quietly she appeared in your office, standing in front of your desk in absolute silence until you looked up. You jumped, swore, and shoved your chair back away from your desk.

She merely arched an eyebrow and swept her fingers over your desk. “Sorry, I should have called ahead, but this little problem just came up while I was out,” she said.

“Uh…” You cleared your throat and stood up. “Hi? Again? How are you? It’s been a while?” you tried. You reached into the mini fridge next to your desk and produced a small glass bottle of water.

“I’m not here on a social call,” she said. She waved to a seat behind her. “May I?”

“Of course.” You set the bottle in front of her as she sat down. “If you’re not here for a social visit,” you drawled as you sat back down, pulling your chair up to your desk, “Then why are you here?”

“I’m here on behalf of my client, actually.” You arched an eyebrow at her statement, warily meeting her gaze. “Your previous employer?” she added.

“Oh.” It took far too long to connect to dot between ‘previous employer’ and ‘previous employer that was under a criminal investigation by Chloe’. “Oh!” You sat up more in your seat. “Should you be here? Like…legally, isn’t this a bad thing?”

“It’s called trying to settle outside of court,” Charlotte said.

“Yeah but isn’t that generally done like…. with police knowledge?” you asked. You reached for your phone. “Maybe I should call Detective Decker.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.” Charlotte stood and placed a hand over your phone, staring as she leaned over your desk. “This can be a very civil conversation.”

“Is it?” you asked, “Because this is a little threatening, if you ask me.”

“Not at all! This is purely friendly, I assure you.”

You swallowed as she pulled the phone off the cradle and set it on the desk before sitting back in her chair. You brushed your fingers over the edge of your desk and found a quarter sized button with your thumb, one that gave way with the lightest push. “Charlotte, the last time I saw you, you weren’t all that friendly. This feels a little worse than that,” you said.

“Nonsense,” she scoffed, crossing her legs.

The door of your office was pushed open. Charlotte craned her neck to find Maze standing in the doorway, crossing her arms, and releasing the slowest, most sarcastic laugh you had ever heard. “Well, well, well,” Maze taunted. Charlotte’s head turned back to you. You leaned back in your seat. Her glare could have set you on fire. “I don’t think you’re welcome here,” Maze cooed. She walked closer. Her nails drummed against Charlotte’s seat. “I can walk you out.”

You watched them both as they left and slumped further into your chair. Your small desk fan whirred. You stared at nothing in particular. Turning your chair, you doubled over and buried your face in your hands.

It wasn’t much, but Charlotte being there confirmed that your bosses at your last job had been doing something sketchy. You turned enough to take your phone off the desk and texted Chloe about what had just happened. Maybe it would help in her investigation? You couldn’t say for sure. You watched your thumbs tremble as you sent the text.

You heard shoes click against the floor, even, light, quick. You recognized them and felt yourself relax before he even spoke. “I just saw Maze walking Mum to the door? Is…” Lucifer’s voice trailed off as you stood. He whispered your name, his hands lowering from his cuffs, and opened his arms as you stepped into his space for a hug. He repeated your name, softer, and slowly wrapped his arms around your shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“’m fine,” you mumbled. You pressed your face into his shoulder.

“I would believe you if you weren’t so tense,” he mumbled. His hands rubbed up and down your back. “Did something happen?” You pulled your hand to your face and pressed your palms into your eyes. You couldn’t tell if your arms were shaking, or if they were just so tense that they vibrated. Lucifer’s hands cupped your cheeks. He tilted your face up, cradled it, brushed his thumbs over the backs of your hands as you brought your hands down over your chin. He looked genuinely worried. “Now, now, don’t keep secrets, especially when you’re like this.”

He looked softer. It was strange. There was usually a sharpness to his face, but it was gone now. You cleared your throat. “She said she was here because of my last job,” you whispered.

“Your last—” He dropped his hands. You stepped back, smoothed your fingers over your warm cheeks, and suddenly felt just a little colder. “You mean your prick boss that’s under investigation?” he asked. You nodded. He laughed. “Well that, that solves it then, doesn’t it? Proves his guilt, the little bastard.” He pushed his coat aside to plant his fists on his hips. Tapping his foot, he turned away and headed back down the hall into Lux. “I’m calling the Detective, she should—” He stumbled a bit, moved aside as Maze appeared in the hall, “—She should know what happened!” Lucifer was gone before you could tell him that Chloe was aware.

Maze slinked her way back to you, dragging her gaze from Lucifer’s back to you. “Huh.” She nodded slowly and pursed her lips. You crossed your arms. “So, when did you uh…” She waved her hand from you to the hall and arched her eyebrows suggestively. “When did THAT happen?”

You squinted. “What?”

“When did you two fuck?” she asked louder. Your shoulders hunched up. You felt your mouth slowly drop as you stared at Maze, processing what she said until your face burned. She nodded with the widest, most smug grin you had ever seen. “I knew it. I knew you two were—”

“We’re not!” you protested.

She waved her hand in front of her face as she spoke over you, “He’s got that ‘freshly fucked’ look about him lately with the smile and the laid back—”

“Maze!”

She continued, though, “You can’t hide it, I mean, I’ve seen that look too many times to mistake it for something else.”

“We haven’t done anything!” you hissed, grabbing her hand from the air. “I swear to God—”

“Gross.”

“—I have never seen more of Lucifer than I did when I walked in on his little absinthe orgy forever ago.” You shook her arm for emphasis. You released her and shrugged. “Maybe he just…” You shrugged, flapping your hands against your thighs. “Maybe he enjoyed building a blanket fort? I dunno, Maze.”

She recoiled, defensively lifting her hands in front of her. “A what?” she finally asked.

“A blanket fort,” you replied slowly. “With…blankets? And sheets and…” You waved your hand over your head. “Chairs?”

She stared at you, her eyes narrowing, and crossed her arms. “Is it something that…human children like?” she asked.

“…I don’t really like the progression of this conversation and I’m a little confused.”

“Human children!” she shouted. She waved her hands. “Do human children enjoy making those?!” She grabbed your arms and shook you.

“Yes, yes, Jesus—”

“No? No, don’t bring Him into this he has nothing to do with this?” she muttered. She squeezed your arms, patted them, and finally released you. “Good, so, I’ll be by to pick you up later—”

“Wait, what?” you asked.

Maze started down the hall, continuing as though you had never spoken. “—And we’ll build one of these and have it judged by a professional.” She disappeared from sight once she finished her sentence.

You stared blankly down the hall. First Lucifer, then Maze. Shaking your head, you turned back to your desk. Two peas in a weird Hell themed pod, they were.

Maze was true to her word, though. After you were done with your shift, you headed up to your apartment, changed, and found yourself answering your door a few hours later. Maze stood there with her hands on the shoulder of a child that you recognized from pictures – Trixie. She waved at you with a wide, toothy grin.

“Did you steal Chole’s daughter?” you asked slowly.

Maze slapped the child on the back, urging Trixie into your apartment. “Nope. I’m watching her.” She brushed past you. “We are, I guess.”

You shut the door behind her. “Thanks for asking me?” you whispered, thoroughly confused.

“Mom and Dad went on a date,” Trixie said from the couch. She was digging through the folded blankets, pulling sheets from the pile you had used with Lucifer. “Maze said you built a blanket fort, can we make one?”

“That’s what we’re here for, kid,” Maze called. Trixie tossed her pink backpack onto a chair and zoomed around the apartment, dragging chairs and other, taller things from various places as she got to work. You waved at Maze’s boots after a moment, asking her to take them off.

“They’re on a date?” you murmured. Maze gave an affirmative hum. “When did that start happening again?”

“This is, like…their third of fourth date in a month, I think?” Maze replied. She looked over at you. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Not really,” you mumbled.

“Well, bring that up to her!” she exclaimed. She steered you towards the couches. Trixie had already draped a sheet over your television. “Tribe doesn’t keep secrets!” She squeezed your shoulders almost painfully. “You hear that?”

“Maze for the last time—”

“Yeah, you and Lucifer didn’t do the horizontal mambo,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But you better tell me when you do.”

You shook your head. Trixie cleared her throat, planted her hands on her hips, and took the lead on the construction of her blanket fort. You bowed to her and followed her lead, until she, Maze, and yourself had constructed a blanket fort that was miles better than what you had built with Lucifer. You crawled through the maze between a couch and a chair, pushing a large bowl of chips in front of you. Maze took it from you once you came into view and moved over enough for you to lean back against the couch. Trixie sat in front of you both, reciting a speech from a movie that she had picked out.

As you relaxed, Maze nudged your shoulder. “Charlotte said something to me when I was escorting her out,” she murmured. You looked over, crunching down on a handful of chips, waiting for her to continue. She pursed her lips and frowned. “She said she knew you from somewhere?” Her voice had dropped to something softer than a whisper.

“You know, she said that before, too,” you breathed, “Came to my apartment, asked me how it was possible?” You tilted your head. “No, she…said it was impossible that she would know me from somewhere…was real…manic about it.”

Maze’s frown deepened. “Was that it?”

You nodded. “I mean, there was other stuff. Said that if she didn’t know me from Lux that it was from somewhere else but…” You shook your head. “It didn’t make any sense.”

A handful of popcorn sprinkled your face. You turned in time to see Trixie throwing another handful at Maze. “You guys aren’t watching the movie,” she pointed out. She grabbed the remote and rewound it, scooting back across the floor until she sat between you both. “Now,” she sighed dramatically, “We have to start it over.”

You planted a loud smooch against Trixie’s head. Maze watched you.

You felt her watching you for the rest of the night.


	10. Chapter Ten

“So, after I got your message—” Chloe sat on her desk, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she turned to face you. You leaned back in her chair with a grin and folded your hands in your lap. “After I got your text,” she repeated, “I went to your former boss’s house. Turns out? That whole thing about Charlotte coming to you was a cover.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” She beamed. “He was getting ready to leave the country. And he wasn’t the smartest of scumbags either – he kept detailed records of the embezzlement.” She flipped through the papers she grasped between her fingers. “It was insane, honestly.”

You leaned forward in your seat. “Is there something about me that screams ‘rob me but make it flashy’?” you asked.

She leaned over as well, snapping the papers closed. “I was actually gonna ask if you had that, like, embroidered somewhere?” You started to laugh. “I’m serious, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much crime around one person where that person was innocent,” she added with a giggle.

You grinned. “Are you supposed to be telling me all of this?”

She hummed. “Probably not,” she answered, “But I am updating you on your case, so…”

You hummed in return, tilting your head. “That sounds like Lucifer talking,” you pointed out.

She scoffed, exclaiming how that wasn’t a funny comment, when the topic of conversation spoke over her. “What’s the saying? Speak of me and I will appear?” Lucifer called. You both turned to him. He stopped just behind Chloe’s desk. “My ears were burning, were you talking about me?”

“No,” you and Chloe answered together.

Lucifer straightened the sleeves of his coat with a pout. “Oh.” He glanced around the office. “One of these days I’ll say that, and it’ll be true,” he muttered.

You stood from Chloe’s chair. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you moved aside.

Chloe fell into her seat and tossed your file onto a pile. “Yeah, we don’t have a case,” she added.

Lucifer motioned between you two. “Have you both been practicing that?” he asked. He smiled slowly, slyly. “Been spending a lot of time together, have you? Hm?”

You rolled your eyes. “Be worried when I start copying Maze,” you said.

“Worried? No, I’ll be downright delighted when that day comes.” You heard Chloe groan. Lucifer patted his coat and fished through an inside pocket. “No, I came to give this to the captain!” he exclaimed. He yanked a folded plastic badge that had been shoved into a pocket that was too small. “Hah!” He flipped it open. “Now, _Detective_ ,” he said with a shake of the badge, “You _will_ have a professional partner.”

Chloe stood and yanked the badge from his grasp. “No.”

“Yes.”

“What did you do?” you asked.

Lucifer tilted his head with an amused shrug. “It turns out that becoming a private investigator isn’t nearly as hard as everyone says!”

You stared at him in awe, torn between being a little proud and a little aghast at his declaration. The officer you had run into multiple times – the one with the large donut bun on her head and the million-watt smile – walked past.

“Did you say you became a private investigator?” she asked.

Lucifer turned only slightly, just a swing of his body in her direction. “I did, actually.”

“That’s awesome!” she chirped.

Your jaw dropped even more. “No? No, it’s not.”

“It’s really not,” Chloe agreed, “This means you can go anywhere.”

“I already have a hard-enough job keeping track of you as your personal assistant,” you pointed out. “You being a private investigator is going to make it worse.”

The woman shrugged, hugging the files in her arms tighter. “I mean, it’s not awful, right?”

Heels stomped down the stairs behind her, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the office, and announcing Mazikeen’s arrival. She dragged with her a man about three times her size, who she deposited into the care of the first officer she saw.

She stretched her legs as she approached. “What are we talkin’ about over here?” she groaned.

Lucifer snatched the badge from Chloe’s grasp. You stared at him with a soft sigh. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he muttered, “It’s my property!”

“You can ask.”

“Detective, would you have given me my badge back?” Lucifer asked.

Chloe started to nod, which prompted you to wave a hand at her. She quickly shook her head, though. “No, not a chance.”

“Maze, did you know that he was getting his private investigator license?” you asked.

She nodded slowly, her eyes on the officer next to her. “Do I know you?” she suddenly asked. You threw your hands up, turning back to Lucifer as the officer ducked her head. You vaguely heard her decline Maze’s question.

“Do you even know how to be a private investigator?” you asked him. The officer excused herself from the group. Maze followed her with a curious glare.

“Yes?” he tried. He buttoned his coat once the badge was back in his pocket. “I studied extensively.” You crossed your arms. “As in I watched all of ‘Veronica Mars’.” Chloe groaned. “Plucky girl, that Kristen Bell, though I don’t know how I feel about that last season,” Lucifer added.

“Is that why my Hulu keeps suggesting I watch Veronica Mars?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

“You know you don’t have to watch that stuff alone, right?” You suggested with a smile.

Lucifer straightened his coat. “I don’t,” he scoffed. He hesitated, eyes flicking from you, to Chloe, then back. “I watch it with Amenadiel when you’re not around.”

You smiled fondly, crossing your arms around your front. When you started to speak, Maze burst out into laughter across the office. You leaned around Lucifer, who turned towards the cackling woman. She still stood with the officer, who was flushed and pulled the files up to her face. You and Lucifer exchanged a look before crossing the room.

Maze patted the woman’s arm and shoved the files down away from her face. “Have—” She snickered and heaved a heavy breath. “Have you met Milena?” she wheezed, “The—”

“Beat cop,” Milena cut in. Maze mouthed sound as she fell into another bought of soundless laughter, leaning onto her knees.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Milena?” he murmured. He tilted his head, eyes drifting up Milena’s form until they settled on her face. You shuffled your arms around until they gripped your sides again. Your eyes darted from Lucifer to the newly dubbed Milena. “Do I know you?” he asked.

“Nope,” she protested flatly, “Just have one of those faces.”

“No, no, hold on,” he complained, “I swear I’ve seen you before.”

Someone cleared their throat behind you. Then, the patted your back. You looked up. Ella dropped her hand back to the box she carried, filled with teetering glass lab equipment.

“Hey, hi, hey,” she wheezed. She readjusted her grip. “Can you help me? Maybe get the door.”

“Oh.” You didn’t miss how absent your voice sounded. You hurried across the office to the lab door, Ella hot on your heels, and pushed the door open with your backside. She wheezed her thanks as she set the box on the table. You leaned further back against the door.

Ella called your name.

“Hm?”

She called it again. You didn’t answer. She grabbed your arms and pulled you away from the door. “Can I ask you something?” she said once you turned to face her. You nodded. She pulled you further into the lab. “When uh…” She leaned over, balancing on one foot, and quickly snapped back up. “When did that happen?”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “When did what?” you asked slowly.

“You,” she drawled, squeezing your elbows. She bobbed her head from side to side. “Feelin’ that for Lucifer.”

“Feeling…?” You wheezed as her words sunk in. Your face flushed. “Nooo,” you breathed. She nodded slowly. “Nooo!” you protested. Her whole body was nodding now. “No, I don’t—”

“You do.”

“I **don’t**.”

“You **do**.”

You groaned. “I…” You took a deep breath and held it, frozen. As you exhaled, you thought you deflated. “No?” you weakly tried to convince yourself. Ella shook you by your arms. “Okay!” you squealed. “Okay.” You patted her arms. “I…do…”

She stamped her feet. “I knew it!” She jumped back and clapped her hands together. “When are you gonna tell him?”

“Never!” 

“NO!” she whined. You widened your eyes. “You have to!”

“No, I don’t, I don’t have to, and I don’t plan to, and it won’t happen because…” You threw your hands into the air, frowning. “Because that’s not how this works, Ella.”

“But you’re already friends! That’s the first big thing, right?”

“And that’s fine.” You gripped the box on the table. Your palms were sweating. “I’m fine with just friends, Ella. I really am.”

Ella waved her hand over your shoulder. “And you’re fine with Lucifer makin’ the weird…staring eyes at Milena, the office match maker?” she asked.

You drummed your fingers against the box. “He can do whatever he wants,” you muttered.

Ella was silent for a long moment. “You don’t sound convinced.” You pressed your lips together, staring at the lab equipment, and started to pull them out of the box.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update!! So I hope that this and the next chapter make up for it!!!
> 
> Edit 7.27.2020: I edited a few things as I realized some of my wording left out a few people in feeling that they were included in this story! So i reworded some phrases, and hopefully that'll change that. This wasn't called to my attention, but was something that I noticed that I needed to change in my own writing, and decided to go forward with it. Thank you!

Maze dragged you, literally held your arm in a vice grip and dragged you, across the street and into a club whose name was scrawled out in looping neon script. There was a line out the door, full of men in expensive clothes and women in short dresses, yet she pulled you through the front door and into the building without stopping.

“What are we doing here?” you groaned as you entered the club of pulsing music and sticky air. “We live above a club where we get everything for free?”

“Yeah, and Lucifer—” Her eyes cut to yours rather suggestively, and you scowled, “Is always there, which is why we’re here.”

“Because of Lucifer?” You followed her down a set of stairs that led into the club proper and stopped. It wasn’t just Maze in front of you, but Chloe, and Ella, and Linda, who were all dressed to impress and grinning.

Ella clapped her hands. “Now it’s a party!” she cheered.

“I don’t like this at all,” you pointed out. Chloe looped her arm through yours as Maze released you to lead everyone through the crowds. “I want that noted.”

“Yeah, we got it.” Chloe patted your arm. “So.”

You squinted as Maze found a table. “So?” you asked. You sat next to Ella, which gave Chloe the time to sit into the chair on the other side of you. Ella smiled. Chloe smiled. Linda hid hers behind her glass. Maze just tilted her head. “I feel like I’m in an intervention.”

Linda set her cup down. “Ella told us.”

You looked between them, dread settling in your chest. You felt your face start to warm. Instead of looking at them, you looked down at your phone. “Uh, told? Told you what, I don’t—”

“You wanna bone Lucifer,” Maze cut in.

Your head snapped up. “That is **not** what she told you.”

“Then what’d she say?” Maze countered.

You stuttered. “Why are we talking about this?” You looked around at everyone again. “Is that what this was about? And Ella can’t keep a secret?”

Ella’s eyes widened, her eyebrows arching high as she finished a long slurp of her drink. “I didn’t know it was a secret!” she exclaimed.

“How wasn’t it a secret? That’s pretty big secret material?” you shot back.

“This isn’t just about you and Lucifer,” Chloe cut. You turned to her, slapping your hands on the table. “It’s…” Her eyes darted around the table. “About…”

You tried to smile, you really did, but it came out more as a grimace. “Thanks guys.” You patted the table again and stood. “I’m just gonna head home.” The women around you protested as you slid from your chair. Ella started to apologize, when you smiled. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay if you’re leaving,” Linda pointed out.

Ella waved her hands. “You know what? Forget all that then! We’ll just sit here, and drink, and there will be no talk of boys.” She sat up straighter in her seat and waved at a waitress in a tight pair of shorts.

Maze shrugged. “That’s alright, I don’t talk about boys.” She said with a tilt of her head. You sank back into your seat. “I talk about men.”

A chorus of groans erupted from the table as the waitress approached. You ordered something hard and asked her to bring a glass every time she walked past. She smiled, but nodded, and left with a long list of orders from the rest of your group.

The club started to empty hours later, and after a round of rock-paper-scissors, which devolved into pick-a-number, and ended with draw-the-short-straw, you found yourself leaving the club with a massive dent in your wallet and a warm, pleasant buzz in your head. You stood on the curb with the women, each of you arm in arm as you struggled to navigate the various car service apps on your phones. Linda was the first to leave, followed shortly by Ella, then Maze.

Chloe squeezed your arm as Ella’s car pulled away from the curb. “Can I say something?” she murmured. You glanced over, watched as her finger finally pressed a button to order a ride for herself. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously, you nodded. “I think it’s great.” She cleared her throat and turned to you, “The whole...Lucifer thing.” You groaned. “No, really!”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you complained.

“No, wait, listen to me.” She pressed her fingers against your mouth when you started to protest. “Shh.” Chloe held your shoulders in a death grip. “He’s? He’s got something for you.”

You tilted your head. “Something...?”

“Like he...” She rolled her hand around, staring into the air as though the words would appear behind your head. “He has things for you.” She scowled. “He was really worried when all the.... _nonsense_ was happening with your boss, and your job, and all that stuff.” Her eyes cut to yours and she whispered, “Like, really worried.”

“O...kay...” you drawled.

She patted your shoulders. You almost stumbled, bursting into a fit of giggles as she righted you with a string of whispered apologies. “I think you should do something,” she proclaimed, “Like....something special!”

“Like what?” you asked. You smacked your lips. “Like...a date?”

Chloe gasped. “A _date_!” She smacked your shoulder, nodding. “A date, that’s _perfect_.”

A familiar car rolled up to the curb with the passenger’s side window already rolled down. As you leaned over to look into it, you were met with Dan’s smile. “You’re both completely trashed,” he pointed out.

“No!” you both exclaimed.

He climbed out of the car with a heavy sigh, and pulled not only the front passenger’s door open, but the back as well. “Get in,” he commanded, “Both of you.”

“You don’t even know where I live,” you complained as you climbed into the back seat.

“Yeah, _Dan_ ,” Chloe said. She leaned on the door as Dan started around to the driver’s side. “You don’t even know,” she whispered.

“He doesn’t even know,” you whispered just as loudly. You leaned against the front seat as Chloe fell into the car, slamming the door harder than needed. “Hey, hey, Dan.”

“Yes?” he patiently asked.

“I live at Lux,” you replied. You nodded, and stretched over the center console for his phone, which sat in a cradle on the dash. “I can, I can, I can put in the address.”

“No.” He pulled the phone out of your reach, earning a whine from you, and a loud protest from Chloe. “I know where it is!” he shouted over the both of you.

Chloe turned to you. “He knows where it is,” she repeated.

“Oh, okay, good.” You slumped back against the seats. Frowning, you leaned against Chloe’s seat as Dan pulled away from the curb. “Are you sure? Like, sure sure?” you tried to whisper. Just like all your other quiet words that even, they were not quiet.

“I’m sure!” Dan exclaimed.

Chloe gasped. “Dan.”

“ _What_?”

“You don’t need to _yell_ ,” Chloe stated, aghast.

“Yeah, Detective Dan,” you said sharply, over enunciating every syllable, “I’m right here.”

“Can I just point out that you guys shouldn’t go out drinking together anymore?” he said as he carefully navigated the half empty streets. “Ever?” He glanced at Chloe, then at you. “There’s no adult in that group of friends of yours.”

“Tribe!” Chloe shouted. “We’re tribe!”

“WOO!” You threw your hands up and collapsed against the door with a grunt. Dan clicked the locks several times, just to be safe.

You couldn’t be sure of much else of the journey back to Lux: you remembered giggling, Dan’s worried voice, and Chloe slurring something as the both of you petted one another’s hair.

She repeated your name at various volumes as Dan’s car pulled up to the club, whose sign was no longer on. You answered in kind, patting her head around the head rest. She turned around to face you. “You’re? You’re my best friend,” she whispered conspiratorially.

You gasped. “I am?”

“You are.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she gasped. She grasped your arm. “We should get friendship bracelets.”

As you squealed, Dan climbed out of the car. “Okay, let's get you inside,” he said as he opened your door. You gripped his arm as you followed him up to the door, still conversing with Chloe in voices that grew louder with the distance.

“I'll have it for you tomorrow!” she shouted.

“I'll make you one tonight!!” you shouted back.

Dan juggled with keeping you on your feet while struggling with your keys. The struggle didn't last long – the door swing out towards you, revealing Lucifer, backlit by the low lights of the club.

“What's this?” he asked.

“Hi!” Chloe shouted from the car.

You snagged your keys from Dan and ducked under Lucifer's arm, ignoring the two as they spoke behind you. Dan stuttered as you teetered near the stairs. Lucifer pulled the door shut, locked it with a shout of something, and trotted after you.

“Well now, you took part in a little relaxation,” he pointed out as he grasped your arms. You squinted up at him, followed him as he led you towards the elevator. “Let's get you upstairs.”

“Lucifer!” you gasped, as though you hadn't seen him in ages. He arched an eyebrow as he patted the elevator button. “I have something to ask you!”

“Oh? And just what is that?” he asked. He tilted his head. “Should I be worried?”

You blew a raspberry as you entered the elevator, leaning over to squint at the floor buttons.

And then you woke up, face sore, mind as blurry as your eyes as you stared at your distant ceiling. Your curtains were drawn tight to keep out the oppressive Los Angeles sun and your door was closed. Despite that, you could see the objects of your room from a small, yellow night light in the wall, and the smell of a wonderful diner styled breakfast was thick in the air. You sat up slowly, carefully, but not careful enough – your head split upon the change and your stomach roiled as though you were at sea. You scrambled from your bed, threw the door open and bolted across the hall to the open bathroom to double over the toilet.

As you emptied the contents of your stomach, thin trails of coherent thoughts pushed through the hangover daze: your toilet seat was up; the hall was just as dark as your room and, from the looks of it, the bathroom; a towel was folded up next to the toilet; mouthwash sat in tiny cups on the tank, with a note taped to your wall saying “brush later, rinse now”. You squinted at them as you pulled the toilet seat down and flushed.

You heard the sounds of cooking pause. You sat heavily on the toilet lid as you took one cup of mouthwash and glanced around.

“Sleeping Beauty awakens!” someone called – Lucifer called. You looked up. The hall lit up with brilliant sunlight for a moment, blinding you and sending a dark green-orange stripe across your vision. You blinked hard, desperate to send the echo away, staring while not staring at Lucifer as he filled your bathroom door. “I have breakfast and a little hair of the dog ready for you,” he said. He hissed as he leaned towards you, brushing his thumb over the bridge of your nose. “And some ice if you need it,” he added.

You spit the mouthwash in the sink, the croaked, “What happened?”

“Before or after you went face first into the elevator buttons?” he asked with a Cheshire grin.

You squinted at him. “After.”

“Oh!” He leaned against the door frame with a dramatic pout. “Well, I’m a little disappointed that you don’t remember. We had all sorts of fun, absolutely ruined your couch – don’t worry, I will replace it.” He tilted his head. “How’s your jaw?”

“What…?” The words passed through your head once, twice, thrice, and then your eyes grew wide and set your face on fire. “We—” He couldn’t keep his pout for long. In fact, the moment your mouth fell agape, he grinned. You stuttered, standing, and shoved your hands against his chest as hard as you could, which wasn’t that hard. “You asshole!”

He caught your arms as he stepped back, his grin growing. His hands slid into yours with his stumble. “One can only play that prank once, so I had to take the chance!” he exclaimed.

“What actually happened?” you asked. You pulled your hands away and stepped towards the curtain. As you pulled it aside, the sunlight and the smell of heavy grease hit you like a train. You struggled not to vomit a second time.

“Well.” Lucifer stepped around you. You could finally get a good look at him now that you weren’t in darkness – his button up was messy, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first two buttons undone. He didn’t wear any vest and – he wasn’t even wearing shoes. “You passed out when you fell face first into the buttons,” he said slowly. He pulled a chair up to your counter, in front of a plate of food, a glass of water, and a shot of clear liquor. “I carried you up here.”

You sank into the seat. “You did?” you whispered. You glanced down at your clothes. No longer were you in what you wore to the club, but in a set of pajamas from your drawer. When you glanced up at him, he smiled an embarrassed smile. “Maze helped with your clothes.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you flatly exclaimed. You tossed back the shot with a cringe.

“Well, it was a team effort.” Lucifer pulled a second chair up next to you. “A game of “remove the clothes under the clothes”. Fun when everyone is awake, mind you. Can get a little kinky.” He winked.

“Lucifer.” The shot hit you faster now that you had an empty stomach. It leveled your head almost instantly and turned down the intensity of the sun coming through your windows. You picked up the fork balanced on your plate and blinked as you shoveled in a massive bite. “Did you make this?” you finally asked. You swallowed.

“I’m a little offended by your tone,” Lucifer commented, “But yes. I did.”

“And you brought me up here, changed my clothes, tucked me into bed,” you said slowly. You took another bite of breakfast. “And hangover proofed not only my room, but the bathroom, and the hall.”

He paused as he leaned over his own plate of breakfast. A million thoughts crossed his face at once. He settled for meeting your gaze. “Yes.” Your heart stuttered in your chest. He glanced back down at his food and stabbed his fork through the eggs. “Needed to make sure you were okay,” he added quietly.

You took another large bite of breakfast. “Thank you,” you mumbled. You adjusted yourself, crossed a leg under your body. “This is really good,” you said around another bite of food.

Lucifer felt himself smile as he watched you eat. The smile froze. He looked down at his own food and cleared his throat as a horrifying realization struck him. “Oh, you know….” He managed to say, “Idle hands are my playthings.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

It was an eerily quiet night. You felt a pit in your stomach, something akin to physical discomfort. You honestly thought you were maybe sick, that you had caught something while working behind the bar, getting some on hand training from one of the more skilled bartenders of Lux. But, after spending hours in the bathroom, curled up next to your toilet, you concluded that it was something else.

Something worse was making your stomach twist into complicated knots. It hit you once you banished the thought of illness – it was anxiety. Nerves. Bordering on down right terror. You hadn’t felt it since you moved into your apartment above Lux, and it honestly shocked you when the realization came. One, that you hadn’t felt anxious since entering your new life. And two? Well...

This kind of anxious terror generally came before something truly awful.

You spent the evening, and most of the night, in your apartment. You were lucky this time – Lucifer was tied up with a case, or something, and was making himself busy with that outside of Lux. You had messaged him, asking if he had been in the building, and received a string of texts that grew mildly more concerned as they came in.

_Unfortunately, no._

_Why, missing my presence already?_

_We can certainly change some things if you need me that badly._

_Why?_

_Are you alright?_

_I’m fine_ , you replied, curling up further under your blanket. You buried yourself into the corner of your couch, glancing up as a laugh track played over the sitcom you only half watched. _Just a feeling_.

You jumped as a flurry of knocks erupted from your door. They drew your attention away from the vibration of your phone, once for a text, then continuously as three devil emojis appeared across your screen along with a selfie of Lucifer and yourself. The knocks grew louder, more frantic, and you peeled yourself from the couch.

“Who is it?” you croaked. The knocks ceased. You swore; maybe you shouldn’t have done that. Maybe they would have left if they thought you weren’t home.

Your name reached your ears from the person on the other side – a familiar voice that was pitched up and strained. You frowned to yourself and hurried across the room. “It’s me,” Charlotte called. She patted her hand against the door. “Please, let me in. I need to speak with you.” She didn’t sound good. In fact, she sounded downright awful.

You bit your lip, hand hovering over the doorknob. Resting your fingers on it, you leaned your cheek against the door. “Charlotte?”

Something slid against the door. You thought you could feel a warmth radiating through your door. “You’re home!” she gasped, “Please let me in. We need to talk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you replied after a moment.

Her hand slapped against the door as she shouted your name. “Open the door!”

“Jesus, fuck, okay,” you murmured. You glanced at your couch, where your phone was, unlocked the door, and started towards couch.

Charlotte was immediately behind you, turning you around, backing you up against the back of your sofa with her finger in your face. Her other hand was firmly planted over her abdomen. You could see a piece of tape between her fingers. She was grinning, baring her teeth like a hyena. “I know you,” she hissed. You leaned away from her, bending backwards over the couch. She started to laugh. “I remember where I know you from.”

“Yeah, the bar,” you murmured. You pushed her hand away, sitting up, and earning a pop in your spine. “What happened, are you bleeding? What?” You reached for her hand, and the tape, and could have swore there was a soft yellow light seeping from beneath the it.

“No, I know you!” She swatted your hand away. “Don’t? Touch that unless you wanna die.” She backed away from you.

“What?” You stared at her, shaking out your stinging fingers. “Charlotte, you’re not making any sense. Please, sit down.”

“No!” she snapped. She leaned heavily against the counter, pressing her hand tighter against her abdomen. “No, this doesn’t make any sense. How are you here?!” She turned. Her eyes were wide, wild with a fury, and a sadness, and a fear that were far older than you. “I don’t understand.”

You swallowed. You heard your phone buzzing again and threw a glance over your shoulder to see Lucifer’s number flash across your screen again. “I don’t either,” you admitted. Your voice was smaller than you thought it could be. “You’ve said strange things. Lucifer says strange things, Maze says strange things. I don’t…” You trailed off, wringing your hands together. “I don’t understand.” You looked up, swallowing a lump that had formed in your throat. “If…If you do, could you explain it to me?”

“I…” Charlotte’s fingers curled over her belly. The light curved around her fingers. You felt the moon kiss your skin through your windows. The air was sharper, cleaner, and smelled fresher than anything had before. You even felt good – not that you didn’t feel good already, but your body felt rested, felt new. You trailed your fingers through the thin beams of light that stretched past your shoulder and the warmth of a motherly hug seeped into your skin. You closed your eyes. You had never felt so safe. “I don’t have time,” Charlotte whispered.

The light vanished, and with it, the safety of a mother’s arms. Your eyes fluttered as they opened. Charlotte was adjusting her dress, concealing the tape beneath it as best as she could. “What are you?” you murmured. You took steps towards her, hesitating when she looked up from the rip in her dress. “What was that? What…”

Something old settled in her gaze. It was familiar in the way that breathing was, yet you couldn’t put a name to it. But she could. The ire that surged through her fingers when she rapped upon your door was gone as she cupped your cheeks. Warmth sunk all the way down to your bones. You closed your eyes. She pressed lips cracked from worried gnawing against your forehead. Was this what people meant when they said God’s light shone on them? Was that this feeling, this aching hum in your chest? “I see it now,” she breathed, “I get it.”

“Can you tell me?” you pleaded.

She hesitated. “I don’t think it’s for me to say.” Then, the sharp wit you had heard far too often returned. “What’s the phrase? My husband’s will? Or something?”

Your brow furrowed. She squeezed your cheeks between her palms, gave them a gentle pat, and released you. You sank to the floor. As her heels trailed away, your eyes welled with tears and your mind raced with even more questions. You couldn’t be sure how long you sat on your floor, silently crying, or when, exactly, Lucifer showed up, calling your name as he appeared at the door.

“Are you…” He trailed off when his eyes settled on your crumpled form. You looked up and tried to be quick to wipe your cheeks dry. He practically slid across your floor, kneeling at your side, his hands cupping your face where Charlotte’s once had. They warmed you, but it was a different kind of warmth. “What happened?” he quietly asked.

What could you say? Could you really tell him that you had some strange, almost life altering experience with his mother? One that you could not even really wrap your head around. That she had arrived at your door with the energy of an avenging angel and left like nothing had happened? You licked your lips. His thumb swept away a stray tear that clung to the swell of your cheek.

“Charlotte was here,” you replied. You shrugged, sniffed, and looked down, dislodging your face from Lucifer’s grasp. “You just missed her.”

He glanced at the door with a whispered swear and a distracted, “Did I now?” He stood, straightening his suit jacket. “I’ve been looking for her all night.”

“Lucifer.” There it was again. The same look Charlotte had, the ancient, aching mixture of raw emotion. It sat comfortably in Lucifer’s eyes as he turned to you, as though it had been there one too many times and tended to overstay its welcome. Your shoulders sagged. You didn’t want to add to it. You couldn’t. The look left you breathless and you couldn’t add to it. “I’m okay. If you…if you need to go find her, then go. She couldn’t have gotten far.”

His eyes flicked to the door. You rose, dusted your pants off, smoothed them down, anything that gave you a chance to collect yourself. You hadn’t been so emotional with Lucifer yet, and you were not about to start now. “Are you sure?” he asked, “Are you absolutely sure you’re alright?”

You looked up with a manufactured smile and nodded. “She’s your mom,” you said with a crack in your voice. “Scares the shit out of me.” The corner of his mouth turned up just a tad. “But she’s your mom, and if you’ve been out looking for her, and if it’s because of whatever made her look so incredibly manic, then you should go find her.” You nodded and cleared your throat, coughing for good measure, pushing away the ache that swelled at the base of your tongue. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’ll make sure not to answer knocks for the rest of the night.”

His hands traced the shapes of your arms without touching you. “If you’re sure—”

“Lucifer Morningstar, I’m fine.”

He squeezed your shoulders. “I’ll be back to make sure you are,” he said. The half-smile you had earned twisted into a worried frown. “I wouldn’t leave you like this if it wasn’t important. Mum, she…she’s dealing with something horrible, I believe, and—”

“I never thought it would be so hard to kick you out of my apartment.” You waved his hands off you. “Go, I mean it.”

He did, with a wave of his phone and the insistent, worried hum of, “Call me if something happens again?” Then pulled the door shut behind him.

You locked it. What little energy you had carried you back to your sofa, back under your blanket, where you curled up for the night. Tears of a loss you couldn’t fully understand soaked your pillow as you drifted off beneath the Los Angeles night sky.

The afternoon sun didn’t wake you up. You had turned at some point during your slumber, buried your face into the soft cushions of your couch in search of the darkness they provided. You drew your knees up and felt them press against something harder than a cushion. You opened your eyes cautiously, glanced down your body to what was preventing you from balling up beneath your blanket.

Lucifer.

He had returned at some point, broke into your apartment – you made a half-asleep note to talk to him about that – and fell asleep on your couch, your legs pulled across his lap with half of your massive blanket. He looked wrecked: sallow cheeks, puffed eyes, and stains across his face that looked familiar. Beneath the blanket was his arm, draped over your knees, with his fingers gripping the loose fabric of your pants in a vice grip he kept in slumber. Worry lanced through your chest. What had happened? Was he okay? Was his mom?

You adjusted yourself as you watched him, scrunching your pillow under your head to keep it up, to allow you to keep watching him. You really wanted answers. You wanted to tell him everything that had happened with Charlotte, wanted to bring up all the strange things Maze has said, what he has said. You wanted to tell him that you thought it was weird how your luck had changed ever since you met him, like he had swooped in on the coat tails of divine intervention.

But, how could you?

How could you, when he didn’t seem to take what he said seriously? Or when he was in such a state, even?

Instead, you fished your phone from the depths of your sofa, scrolled to Linda’s number, and sent her a text.

Maze sent a short message back: _Hospital. Room 1497._

You drew yourself up from the couch as quietly as you could, threw on a pair of shoes, and hurried out, leaving behind a note on the coffee table, and one devil of a man carefully tucked beneath your favorite blanket.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

You leaned against the wall next to the closed door, scrolling through your pictures of Lux taken from the past few nights, trying to figure out which would make for the best Instagram post. The light above of your head was still red – you could see it reflected in the screen of your phone. It was fine. Everything was fine. She’d be done soon.

You sipped at your smoothie and selected a picture of one of the dancers leaning precariously from a pole, long hair glittering with rhinestones that had been carefully threaded through the strands. It was part of one of the many themes you had prepared for Lux. This one, with the dancers dripping in sparkling white stones, was an ice theme, complete with ice sculptures, frigid make up, dancers frozen in positions that changed in the darkness between white strobe lights. It had been a hit, and you made sure to capture the transformed Lux from every angle.

The red light clicked off as you hit post, satisfied with the six pictures you had found.

An older, middle aged man shuffled out of Linda’s office, dabbing at his eyes with a wad of tissue. The therapist leaned against the door just at your shoulder, peering over to see what you were staring at.

“You pulled off Ice Night?” she asked.

You nodded with a smile. “It was packed. You should’ve seen it. I mean, I was so nervous.” She pushed away from the door frame, allowing you into her office. “I mean, you know.”

“I mean, you’ve only talked about it for the last three weeks,” she said with a gentle jab at your nervous repetition. She shut the door and flipped the switch for the red light outside. “To me, to Chloe, to Dan, who told Chloe, and Trixie, and—”

“And to the person that you’re avoiding,” you added.

Linda practically fell into her seat, tilting her head in a way that was rather familiar, and strange coming from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied.

“I know you’re my therapist and everything, you know you can talk to me, right?” you said. She crossed her legs and straightened her pencil skirt. You eyed the almost-healed litter of scabs across the back of her arm. “We are friends, Linda,” you slowly added.

“Let’s talk about your nightmares,” she said.

“You’re deflecting,” you pointed out.

“I don’t think you’re paying me to talk about my problems, that’s what drinks are for,” she replied sharply through a sigh. Hooking her fingers around her knee, where her stockings concealed another patch of healing scabs, she leaned back in her chair. “Your nightmares. You’ve been avoiding talking about them for weeks. I think it’s time we visit them.”

You looked down at your phone. The nightmares. The night after Charlotte left your apartment for the last time was the first time you had one: a dark room, with a door that didn’t open, and a face you didn’t know hovering directly over yours. Every night you had the dream, you thought that maybe – just maybe – you knew the face: that the jaw was familiar, or the slope of the brow, or the curve of the cheeks; every time you thought so, you reached out to touch it and felt cold, congealing blood beneath your fingers, sticking them exposed muscle.

It always woke you up.

You sniffed. “We introduced the Devil’s Tongue the other night,” you whispered.

“Now who’s deflecting.” You glanced up. You didn’t miss the way her fingers tightened over her leg. Clearing your throat, you sighed and set your phone on the table, face down, and settled back into the couch cushions. “Have they gotten any better?” Linda asked.

“No,” you murmured. You pulled a pillow into your lap. “In fact,” you said with a sigh, “I think they’ve gotten worse.”

“How do you mean?”

What else was there? You squeezed the pillow, adjusting just so you could bury your chin and mouth into it. The face was never alone – it only ever ended your nightmares. They started almost violently, with a feeling that shoved you into an abyss, tumbling ass over tea kettle into nothingness until the world around you changed to something that felt familiar: a new world, covered in an ancient layer of magic, and helmed by a man to whom power would always sit uncomfortably upon. Your nightmares would be filled with shootings, stabbings, hangings, self-inflicted wounds that some part of you would quickly regret, but you would always end up in the dark room, with walls just out of your reach, and a floor you never really touched, and a face so painstakingly familiar to you in all its grotesque glory that it lingered like a forgotten word at the tip of your tongue.

“The touch is new,” you said as you relayed it all, laid bare the workings of your mind as you struggled to rest. Your voice was hoarse, and you picked up the glass from the table with trembling fingers. Taking a swallow, you cleared your throat and curled your hand to your chest, letting the glass rest atop the pillow. “I think I started touching his face a week ago?”

“He?” You glanced up at Linda’s question. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “You never gave the face any identification before. Why he?”

You took another long pull of the crisp water as you thought over your answer. “I don’t know,” you finally said. The glass started to sweat in your clammy palm. “It just…” You shook your head. “I don’t know.”

Linda’s phone dinged: your hour was up. You tried to smile as you stood, exchanging the glass and pillow for your phone. She rose just as quickly as you did and took your arm. “Come see me again soon,” she stated. She squeezed your arm as you started to turn away. “Preferably this week?” she suggested.

“Okay,” you whispered. You gave her hand a squeeze as well. “Call me if you wanna talk, Linda. Okay?”

She let go, her eyes cast aside, and nodded. You knew she wouldn’t call. It wasn’t you that she needed to speak to.

As you made your way to the bus station just down the road, your phone buzzed with a call from a number you hardly recognized. You paid the driver as you climbed onto the bus, and answered before it could go to voicemail.

“Are you on your way?” the voice on the other end anxiously asked.

“Yeah!” you replied, “Yeah, I am actually. Sorry, I had an appointment that I needed to take.”

“It’s okay.” She sounded nervous. “I know this is a really odd request, especially from me. I mean…you don’t know me. I don’t know you.”

“It’s fine, really.” You watched the streets as the bus drove, tapping your finger against the back of your phone. “I just appreciate the call.”

“Well, how could I not? You sent a really strange message, dear.” Dear. That sounded so odd in her voice. You pulled the cord for the bus to stop at an upcoming intersection and thanked the driver as you hurried off. “Are you here?” asked the woman on the phone.

“Just walking through the doors,” you answered. She hung up. You hurried up the steps and slipped through the revolving doors of an expensive hotel, past the reception desk, and out through the lounge to the pool area outside. She sat at a table in the shade of an umbrella, drinking from a glass that had long since started to condense – it had to have been her third drink, at least. She glanced up as you took the seat across from her and smiled in a way that should have been at home on her face.

You had never seen Charlotte Richards smile in such a relieved way before.

“Thank you for meeting me,” you said at the same time. She laughed a small, embarrassed laugh as she set her glass down. You cleared your throat and turned your phone over onto the table.

“I’m sorry for that weird message,” you murmured. She looked up. “I must have gotten the wrong number.” Her face fell. “But!” you rushed to add, “But I really do appreciate you getting back to me. Especially after what you told me.”

“I had to.” Her voice was just as quiet as yours had been and dropped further into a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned across the table. “You said you’ve been having nightmares for three weeks?” You nodded. She laughed a little, more at herself than the situation, and continued, “I don’t remember anything that’s happened until three weeks ago.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean?” She waved her hands around, dropped them harshly onto the table. “I have no memory of things that have happened around here for months. My memory goes from me being in a hotel room, to…” Her face paled a considerable amount as she faintly said, “To something.” Her eyes clouded over. She went somewhere else, that was obvious, somewhere that she couldn’t shake from her mind. You reached out and touched her hand. She jumped. “That’s why I called you,” she stuttered.

You shook your head. “Why?”

“The place? The place that I remember between that hotel room and waking up on the beach?” She shook her head. Her eyes were wide, and wild, and you almost saw the Charlotte that you last saw in your apartment. Almost. “I think you dreamt it.”

You two drank after that, trying to comprehend the room with the walls just too far away and the unending chill it brought. You drank until you realized what time it was, swore, and paid your tab. Charlotte ordered an Uber on her account, insisting that you couldn’t take the bus home in your state. She wasn’t wrong.

You leaned your head against the cold window of the Uber as it cruised through downtown Los Angeles. “Where do you think it was?” you whispered. You caught the eyes of the driver as your head lolled to the side, towards Charlotte, who hummed and turned fully with her body.

“What?”

“The place.” The words traveled up with a burp, which you immediately mumbled an apology for.

“You know,” said the driver, with a knowing look in his glittering brown eyes, “If you two would describe me the place, I might be able to tell you.” He tilted his head as you met his gaze again in the rearview mirror. “I’ve been just about everywhere there is to be in the City of Angels. Might’ve been to your place.”

Something told you that he was right – he might know it. Was it the friendly smile? The short, silver beard, one not unlike what you’d imagine a modern Santa to have? The crow’s feet in his soft brown skin that told you just how sincere that smile was? No, it wasn’t that. It was his eyes: as the street lights passed over head, you noticed how unique they were – first, they were the dark canyons of the south west, then golden browns of space, then the rolling fields of savannahs; they were the brown of wax from a candle burned too low, and of stars in the oldest of galaxies – each street lamp cast them in a different light and it warmed you in an oh so familiar way that you thought you would cry.

You scratched your eyebrow, and chose to lie, “It’s not here.”

“No?” he asked with an arch of his own salt-and-pepper brow.

Guilt speared your heart. Still, you lied. “No, it’s somewhere else. We thought maybe we’d been there before.”

“You can tell me, you know,” he insisted. The smile he flashed held a familiar charm. “Strangers do keep the best secrets.”

You tried to smile, you really did, but it came out as a grimace instead. It seemed to become a habit of yours. The feeling sobered you up. “You know, I don’t really remember that much anyway,” you whispered.

Another lie.

The driver shrugged, his smile guarded, and stopped on the curb of a bustling Lux. The familiar bouncer opened it for you. “I guess the third time isn’t always the charm,” the driver stated.

You climbed out, waved to Charlotte, and insisted she message you when she got home. She waved her phone at you before you shut the door. You made a beeline for the bar as soon as you walked in, ordering a water with a wave as you took at seat at the corner. A quick glance told you that everything from Ice Night was gone. You were grateful. You didn’t know how you’d be able to deal with the flat white lights.

The bartender set your water on a napkin. You rested your head on your arm, and your forehead against the cold glass.

Like a miracle, the music faded with the last song. The lights adjusted. A single, yellow spotlight swept across the floor to the piano, which you had to turn to see. Lucifer started to play a song you knew well before the light even fell on him, and when it did, you caught his brown eyes as they searched the crowd for you.

You smiled.

He inclined his head, turned his attention back to his keys. Your eyes traced the familiar curve of his jaw as he started to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST???? WANNA THANK EVERYONE FOR ENJOYING THIS SERIES!!!!!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

You never really had a chance to sit down and talk with Amenadiel before, not at all since you first started working on Lux months ago. It frustrated you, actually, and you decided to push all of the nightmare nonsense, all of the trouble sleeping out of your head and remedy the situation. You saw him sitting at the bar one afternoon and struck.

“Amenadiel.” He turned to you, almost jumping as you clattered your way into the booth he sat in, most likely waiting for Lucifer to come down from the penthouse. He said your name back in a similar tone to yours: questioning and curious, sharp with relief at seeing you. This wasn’t your first meeting with the man, far from it, yet you knew little else besides him being Lucifer’s brother. “I have a question for you.”

“I have an answer?” he tried. The casual witty remark didn’t fit him. He cleared his throat. “Yes?” he tried again.

“Is your last name also Morningstar?” you asked. He started to smile. A chuckle slipped through his lips as he looked down at the drink the bartender had fixed him. It was all you needed for the answer. “That…that, that wasn’t my question,” you said through your own amused laughter, “But it’s been bothering me lately.”

“The name is unique to Lucifer, if you must know,” he replied.

“So, it really is a stage name?”

“You’ve been talking to Ella,” he pointed out.

You opened your work with a smile. “Hard not to. Ella’s easy to talk to.”

“So, what was your question?” he asked. You tucked a foot under you, tilting your head as you clicked your pen multiple times. He called your name after a moment of silence. “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” You cleared your throat. “I actually wanted to know if you could help me with something.”

Before he could speak, the elevator opened, and you both turned towards it. Lucifer wandered out, tugging at the cuffs of his coat with a slight scowl. His eyes darted up, to Amenadiel, to you, and the frown fell away.

“Ah, there you are,” he called to you. He floated down the stairs with a chuckle. “The Detective called; there’s a case, and I’d like you to come with.” He then tilted his head towards your company with a teasing, “Menny.”

Amenadiel rolled his eyes and tossed back his drink. “No.”

“Amen?” Lucifer’s nose wrinkled. “No, too on the dot.”

“Luci,” Amenadiel chided. You gathered up your things and shoved them into the cloth messenger bag at your side.

“Everyone needs a good nickname,” replied Lucifer. He rolled wrist, held out his hand to you. You took it. He helped you from the booth. “Prince,” he gave as an example, “Detective. Maze. Detective Douche.”

“That’s not a good nickname,” you pointed out as you pulled the bag onto your shoulder.

His eyes darted down to the ground, then back up to your face. “What are you talking about, it’s an excellent nickname.”

“I’m coming with you.” Amenadiel’s statement startled you, truly, but you smiled more at the look of pure horror that dashed across Lucifer’s face.

“No, you are not,” he protested.

“What are you afraid of, Lucifer?” Amenadiel stood toe to toe with devilish man, smiling wider as Lucifer’s frown deepened. “What could you possibly do that I haven’t seen before?”

“Better question is what can’t he do while you’re there,” you mumbled. You checked your phone to make sure you were receiving Lux’s phone calls, then smiled. “What are we waiting for?”

You sat in the back of Lucifer’s car on the way to the crime scene, clicking your pen as you wrote down ideas for future themed nights. While you worked, you chatted with Amenadiel, and finally learned more about the mysterious brother: he had been the one that tricked Linda months ago to get information about Lucifer; he had slept with Maze – that had truly shocked you, because Amenadiel just didn’t seem like Maze’s type; he liked fruity drinks; he was also some kind of method actor, saying that he part of the Heavenly Host. You were in stitches as Lucifer rolled up to the crime scene tape, snickering over a story that Amenadiel had trouble finishing.

“And,” Amenadiel wiped his eye, “And then, Luci turned, and—”

“We’re here,” the Devil in question cut in. He turned off the car, glaring at his brother as he climbed out. “You wanted to come with so come now.” You scrambled out of the back seat, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. As you turned to him with a grin, Lucifer pouted. “And here, I thought you were on my side.”

“It was a funny story,” you pointed out. You trailed over Lucifer, who led the way through the crowd and towards the crime scene tape, with Amenadiel close behind you, judging by his soft laughter. As you walked, you checked your phone for any missed calls, and felt your shoulder bump into that of a bystander. Glancing up with a soft apology, you saw the familiar girl with the bob and the round glasses stepping further into the crowd.

Amenadiel’s laughter stopped.

Lucifer held the tape up for you.

The cop with the large donut bun – Milena – stopped you both. “I don’t think you’re supposed to bring people to a crime scene,” she stated. She glanced back behind her, at Chloe who stood not twenty feet away. “We’ve had this conversation.”

Lucifer smiled, chuckled that sly chuckle of his, and squeezed her arms. You almost dropped your bag at the sudden familiarity between the two. A hand on your own arm distracted you, pulled you away from watching Lucifer lower his head towards Milena’s to whisper something to her.

Ella had to shout your name right in your ear to get your attention. “What?” you hissed. She was gaping, eyes wide, mouth hanging open and trembling like she had words stuck in her throat. “Ella?” you quietly asked.

“You can see her?” she breathed.

You frowned. “See who?”

“Rae-Rae!” She flipped you around, making you stumble, and slammed herself against your back. She thrusted her arm over your shoulder, pointing into the crowd, tracking the girl with the round glasses as she moved. “Her.”

“Yes?” you replied, “I ran into her.” Ella flipped you back around and gripped your shoulders. “Jesus fuck, Ella, what is the big deal.”

“She is a ghost,” she whispered.

You tilted your head. “No, Ella, she’s a person.”

She flipped you around again. You groaned, the sound sticking in your throat as though you were gargling it. “No, watch.” You tried, you really did, but Lucifer was so damn close to Milena that their foreheads were practically touching. Amenadiel moved towards them with hard look in his eye. Ella shook your shoulders with a hiss of, “Pay attention.” This time, you did.

And frowned.

The girl, Rae-Rae, was slipping through the crowd without disturbing a soul. No one paid her any mind, not even as she grew closer to the caution tape and disappeared on the other side of the coroner’s van. You and Ella shuffled awkwardly to the side and peered around it, only to find her gone.

“What the hell…?” you whispered.

She was gentle when she turned you around this time, allowing you to keep watching the crowd that was obscured by the van, waiting to see if Rae-Rae would appear. “See, I told you,” Ella murmured.

You turned back to her. “I don’t understand.”

“Me neither,” she replied with a squint of her eyes.

“Are you two done?” You both whipped around, meeting Chloe’s frustrated gaze. “Ella, I need crime scene photos.” Ella stepped around you with a muttered apology and changed her gloves as she neared the body. Chloe turned to you, then looked past you to where Amenadiel and Lucifer had cornered Milena. “What’s uh…” She crossed her arms as she stepped towards you. “What’s goin’ on?”

You glanced back with a huff. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“You talk to him yet?” The flat stare you gave her was enough of an answer. “Why not?”

“Are you serious?” you asked. She emphatically nodded. “Besides the risk of losing my friendship with him?” you added.

“Yeah, besides that, which you know wouldn’t happen, right?” she said.

You scratched your eyebrow and turned away. “Ever since the beach, he’s been really…quiet.”

“Quiet?” she repeated. You slowly followed her up to the front of the skyscraper, where the body was shoved unceremoniously into the rotating doors set in the center of their glass front wall. You watched where you stepped, making sure to avoid any yellow markers. Chloe handed you a pair of gloves.

“Yeah, quiet,” you murmured. You waved at Dan, who stood in the lobby of the building. He waved back. “And I don’t mean in a ‘keeping to himself’ kinda way? Like shutting himself up in his penthouse but just…” You frowned as you stared at the body, not really seeing it. This was your fourth crime scene, you absently thought, and the sight of a dead body should still really bother you, but it didn’t. At least not with so much on your mind. “He doesn’t talk to me as much.”

“Did he before?” Chloe’s voice had taken on her professional tone, her interrogation voice, as you liked to call it. You arched an eyebrow at her with a smile. She scratched her neck. “Well?”

“He did.” You twisted around to glance back at them again. Lucifer and Amenadiel were in a heated, quiet discussion, while Milena had pried herself from Lucifer’s grasp and was dispersing the crowd with a few other officers.

“She’s a regular cupid,” Chloe muttered absently behind you. You released a questioning hum as you turned back to her. “Milena. She’s honestly got at least half the day shift set up on dates, it’s amazing.”

“Maybe I should talk to her,” you said with a shrug.

“Maybe you should talk to Lucifer,” Chloe added.

You glared at her. “He’s not really talking to me.” Her comment got you back on topic. “He seemed a little…upset’s not the word, but…frazzled when he called me.” You scratched your head, frowning as you looked back at the thinning crowd, feeling a chill crawl down your spine. Crossing your arms, you continued, “He came over after whatever happened on the beach, fell asleep on my couch. I left him there to go to the hospital, check on Linda, and he called me, and…he just didn’t sound right.” You shook your head. “I had asked him about it, asked what happened, but he still won’t really tell me.” Your brow came together as you looked at the ground between your shoes. “Feels like he’s not telling me something.”

“It was really weird,” Chloe murmured. She looked up at Dan came through the doors closest to the corner of the building. “Dan can back me up. One second they were on the pier with us, the next…” She shook her head, straightening her spine as he came closer. “The next they were down on the beach, some fifty feet away?”

“Weird,” you murmured.

Dan stopped next to Chloe, their voices dropping to a volume you couldn’t hear. A wind whipped past you, up the walkway to the building, colliding with the glass so hard that they appeared to shake.

“Lucifer, she needs to go home!”

“Why must you always be such a fun sucker, brother? Let her enjoy herself!”

You twisted around again; feet planted to the ground. Amenadiel was clenching his fists, arms trembling from exertion. Lucifer’s hands were in his pockets, his coat buttons undone and his posture relaxed. Behind them, Milena was scrubbing her face. Further back, traffic had stopped. The light was yellow.

“Because she doesn’t need to be here.” Amenadiel focused his attention to Milena. “Does Father even know you’re here?”

“This might surprise you, ‘Adiel, but Father doesn’t actually tell me where to go and whom to pair together unless it’s important,” Milena said with an exasperated sigh.

Lucifer motioned to her with an exaggerated downturn of his lips. “See? What is the problem, brother? Los Angeles is the City of Angels for a reason, you know.”

“Don’t you understand the consequences of a Cupid staying in one spot, Lucifer?”

Lucifer shook his head. “No, I don’t. Actually, the last time I remember a Cupid sticking around a city, swingers and sex clubs became a thing because people were so infatuated with everyone else.” He turned around. “Was that you, Milly?”

“No that was Lev, back in the ‘60s,” Milena answered with a faint smile, “I think he was experimenting. Spreading the love, all that jazz.”

The light was still yellow.

Amenadiel exhaled sharply, releasing his clenched fists.

The light was yellow for another second, then switched to red.

Lucifer arched an eyebrow and squeezed his brother’s arm. “Perhaps you shouldn’t do that for a while,” he murmured, “Seems it’s taking a lot out of you.”

Amenadiel shrugged off the concern. “I’m fine.” He was sweating. Glancing around, the large man ducked back under the tape. “I’m going to wait in the car.” Milena was quick to follow him, jogging down the sidewalk to match Amenadiel’s long strides. Lucifer slowly made his way up the dark walkway, buttoning his coat with a frown as he watched his brother’s shrinking form. He stepped up to your side, glancing down to meet your wide and confused gaze. “He’s not feeling well,” he murmured.

Chloe slapped a pair of gloves against Lucifer’s chest. “Deidrick Markus, thirty-seven, shot five times and stuffed into a revolving door,” she said as he pulled the gloves on. Lucifer followed her up towards the crime scene. You stared at his back, heart in your throat, pounding away a rhythm that made you dizzy.

Dan nudged your arm. “You okay?” he whispered.

You snapped your head up towards him, nodding slowly, licking your dry lips. “Yes,” you managed to get out, “ ‘m fine.”

You left the crime scene twenty minutes later – once Chloe, Dan, and Lucifer walked further into the building to canvas the employees – and sat upon the hood of Lucifer’s car. Amenadiel sat in the front seat, in a brooding silence you almost didn’t want to break. Milena departed once you appeared, smiling and waving at you as she hurried back to work. Amenadiel joined you in leaning against the car a few minutes later, crossing his arms, watching the steady flow of traffic with you.

You noticed you could smell the ocean from where you sat.

“Adiel?” you finally said.

Amenadiel smiled. “Only good nickname I’ve ever had,” he said. It took him a moment, but he did frown, and turned to stare at you. You just watched the stop light at the intersection, counting the seconds it took for the light to change from green, to yellow, to red.

Five seconds from yellow to red.

“You spoke for more than five seconds,” you whispered.

The car shifted as Amenadiel pushed away from it, his gaze heavy as he watched you, almost accusingly. When you met his gaze, you found it to be curious, bewildered even, and downright surprised.

Your world spun as you watched him. “Was the girl I ran into actually a ghost?” you nervously asked, voice almost lost under the din of traffic.

He seemed to fight himself, weighed the pros and cons of answering you in the span of seconds with such sped that you knew he had made much heftier choices far quicker, and with much more confidence than what was in the word, “No.”

You didn’t ask any more questions of him (nothing life changing, now that you thought about it: you had asked him to tell Lucifer that you had taken the bus back home, that you had gotten a call, that you were needed at Lux).

If someone asked you how you got home, though, you wouldn’t be able to answer honestly: you were in such a dissociative daze that you had no memory of getting on the bus, of getting back to Lux, or even getting in the elevator. You couldn’t say how long you even stayed there, only that, at some point, you had fished around in your messenger bag for your headphones and synced them to your phone. You never did play anything, though, far too gone to realize that you were sitting in an even more stifling silence with them on.

Eventually, the elevator jolted, forcing your back to bounce against the wall, yanking you from your daze long enough to stretch your legs out in front of you and groan: when did you sit down in the corner? How long had you been there? Long enough for your ass to fall asleep, you noted.

As you pulled your absolutely dead headphones around your neck, the door opened. Lucifer stood on the other side, holding his suit coat over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up around his elbows. Lux pulsed with an old Skrillex song and a wave of body heat hit you. He walked into the elevator, slipped a key into the keyhole above the buttons, and pressed the one marked P, for Penthouse. The doors closed. He held his hand out to you.

You took it. “Can we talk?” you murmured.

He hauled you to your feet with ease that shouldn’t have been possible. “Of course.” He squeezed your fingers. You squeezed back. “What about?” he asked, “And is it something that I should make drink for?”

You smiled. The elevator came to a smooth stop. You pulled Lucifer’s key from the slot and followed him out, looking around his home. You hadn’t been there often – actually, you hadn’t been there at all since the first time, when you walked in on his orgy. He stepped out, draping his coat over the top of his piano, and you followed.

“Can I make you something?” he asked. You gave a noncommittal answer, waving your hand, dropping the key atop his coat as you looked around. It was beautiful, really: the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the ancient stonework, the view beyond his glass walls, and the elaborate bar. Now that you were getting a proper look at it all, you were stunned. You started towards the stone archway with stairs that led down – down where, you were very curious to find out – when Lucifer wrapped a hand around yours and turned you away, curling your fingers around a glass full of amber liquid.

“Talk,” you mumbled. You took a sip of the liquid and cringed as it burned all the way down your throat. “I wanted to talk, not explore.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to showing you around,” he softly replied. You watched as he took a long drink from his glass. “Multitask.”

“No, no, I…” You cleared your throat and set the glass on the coffee table, pulling him after you as you sat on the large, plush sofa. You looked up at him with hard, serious eyes, which prompted him to take another long pull from his drink. He set the glass next to yours and motioned for you to start. You flapped your hands in front of you, then shifted closer, and slapped them over his own with a soft clap. “Are you okay?” you asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He smiled and arched an eyebrow, and you heard Linda’s voice in the back of your head.

“That’s not an answer, Luci,” you whispered. You scooted even closer, until the knee you had drawn up onto the couch pressed into his thigh. He shifted, mirroring your posture, and propped an elbow on the back of the couch. You still held fast to one hand, and squeezed his fingers, watching as he turned his hand over to meet your ministrations with his own absent ones. “You’ve been…different?” You swallowed and looked up. “Ever since you came back from the pier…”

“Have I now…?” His voice was small, breathless, caught somewhere between nostalgia and anguish and it tugged at something deep in your chest, right next to those feelings that you hated to admit that you had for him. He flipped his hand over in your grasp and slipped his fingers into the spaces between your own, a perfect fit, like the bones of his fingers had been carved to fit yours precisely, and likewise, yours to his.

“What happened?” you asked.

He released your hand to scoop up the glass, then stood as he downed the rest, and headed back to the bar.

“Lucifer.” He filled the glass a second time and drained it just as quickly. “Linda says it’s not healthy to keep this kind of stuff bottled up,” you scolded.

He turned to you, pointing an accusing finger. “That is a dangerous friendship you have with her,” he stated.

“Talk to me,” you demanded. You crossed your arms over the back of the sofa and set your chin atop them. “Chloe says that something weird happened, and you ended up on the beach with,” you hesitated – was it Mom, or Charlotte; after talking with her about the empty room, it was hard to say; that and the difference between the Charlotte you spoke to, and the one you last remembered was drastic, “Your mom. She didn’t say much about it.”

Lucifer finished his third glass, filled a fourth, and slowly made his way back to the couch, which he fell onto with little grace. You tucked your legs underneath you. He slowly twirled the glass as he stared out the window, watching the sky change as the sun set over Los Angeles, but he didn’t say anything. Sighing, you adjusted your position and leaned against his side. He, in turn, slid his arm around your back, his fingers resting in the crook of your elbow.

“When you wanna talk about it – or anything that’s bothering you this much – you can talk to me,” you murmured. You looked up at him.; swallowed; mentally stalled when he turned his head to return your stare and you realized just how close you were. With the sun filtering in through the windows and illuminating the room, you could see the complex pattern and color of his irises: dips and curves that looked just like the surface of a distant star; a brown so deep and warm that it looked russet if you tilted your head just right.

His smile was small and soft, but the way it lit up his eyes really spoke to him being the light bringer.

“I know,” he whispered. He squeezed your shoulders and brought you closer, until his lips brushed your forehead. “Thank you,” he said against your skin.

You stayed like that until the ice in his glass clinked. Taking a deep breath, you stretched out and scooped up your own drink, the ice half melted from being left alone for so long. “Tell me about the case, then.”

Lucifer’s whole demeanor changed as he snorted and reclined back against the arm of the sofa, facing you fully with a bemused grin. “Ridiculous, really, and awfully simple – honestly, I wonder why I offer my services on such cases.”

You listened to the details with a small smile and a flutter in your chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!! So, what did you think???? It was a HUGE reveal in this chapter (and a smaller reveal, I guess) that I have been hinting at for a LONG TIME!!! :D Did you guess who Milena was a long time ago??? Was it easy to spot??? Tell me what you thought!! And I hope you enjoyed!!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Lucifer wasn’t a nervous person. He was cool, and calm, and collected, and wasn’t pacing the length of his penthouse at all. He turned at the edge of his bar while he remembered the conversation he’d recently had with the Detective – one he had certainly wished he could have had with Linda, but said therapist was still avoiding him.

“Detective,” Lucifer had asked over a dead body at a crime scene, “How did Detective Douche approach you when you two first started dating?”

“I’m right here,” Dan said from across the room.

Chloe rolled her eyes, the question not really settling in. When it did, she wasn’t the only one who looked up: Dan turned around from the evidence he was collecting and Ella looked up from the corpse she was photographing. Lucifer squirmed under the scrutiny, which made all three of them exchange glances.

“Oh, is that a very important clue I see?” Lucifer asked, pointing across the room as far away from him as possible.

Ella stood, almost dropping her camera. “Who are you asking out?” she fired off.

Chloe followed Lucifer as he crossed the room. “Do we know them?”

“Uh, we better know them,” Ella added as she followed.

“While I’m interested, is this something that needs to be talked about at a crime scene?” Dan asked, his voice growing louder as the three of them walked away from him.

“Yes!” shouted Ella and Chloe, their eyes never leaving Lucifer.

“No, no,” agreed Lucifer, “Forget I asked.”

They had not forgotten that he asked. They cornered him before he could leave, asking for details, giving him advice that he really did not need, but still accepted. Ella asked if it was you. Lucifer quickly changed the subject. Chloe said that meant it was, it had to be you, who else was it going to be if not you. Lucifer let them talk until he could get a word in, asking them what the best approach would be.

Ella shrugged. “You’re friends,” she pointed out, “Just relax.” She waved her hands towards him. “Be yourself.”

Chloe stuttered in disagreement but said nothing. She crossed her arms and smiled.

So, Lucifer paced.

You, on the other hand, paced the elevator as it traveled up the floors between your apartment and Lucifer’s penthouse, stopping only to lean your head against the cool metal of the wall. You couldn’t understand why you were stressing yourself out – Lucifer, of all people, would understand that you would be at work a little late, especially when you told him it was because Linda had to move your appointment to a later time – though, she wasn’t clear on why she needed to move it. So, it was fine!

You’d be a little late.

It was fine.

The doors slid open.

You snapped your head up. Lucifer twisted away from his windows. You both stumbled over the others name as you walked into the penthouse.

He frowned. “Is something wrong?” he asked. He crossed the room, meeting you next to the piano, where he grabbed your elbows and held you ever so gently.

“N-No,” you answered. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? You look…a little manic, Luci.”

He squeezed your arms, then let go. His face was soft but closed off. “No, I’m…I’m alright.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just…wanted to say that I’ll be late for my shift tonight,” you hesitantly answered. He frowned, the worry creasing his brow. “Not for something bad!” you rushed to say, “Linda, she had to move my appointment for something, and she didn’t have any other time, so it’s gonna be late.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. You watched him, tilting your head. There was something about his face, you noticed. Beneath the stubble, he almost looked…pink? Sunburnt? You almost asked, but he turned away from you, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “Of course.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked. You motioned to the elevator as you stepped towards him. “I…I have time before my appointment if you need to talk, Lucifer.”

How could he talk about it when it was about you? He unbuttoned another button as he said, “May I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you murmured.

He turned around. The worry was gone – not gone, covered by the air of confidence and the smug smile he wore. You crossed your arms. The look only faltered a little. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night,” he said. Suggested? Asked?? Was Lucifer Morningstar asking you to dinner???

You were confused first, then shocked, then felt the heat rising to your face. Your eyes widened and your brows arched. “Dinner?” you asked. Was that your voice squeaking or were you imagining it? He nodded. “You wanna have dinner? With me?” You stepped closer to him, pointing as you asked, “Is that what you were worried about?”

He stepped back, the confidence disappearing. “No?” he lied.

Your face was hotter than Hell on a summer day but you were starting to smile. “You were stressing about asking me to dinner,” you stated.

“You have no proof.”

“I do so: you wore a path in the floor,” you said, tracing an invisible line in the air. He turned around to look at the floor. You stepped closer, jabbing a finger in his chest. “Hah!! So, you were worried!”

He scoffed, patted your hand away from his chest but didn’t let it go. “I’m worried you haven’t answered the question, and now you’re making fun of me for it, which is hardly fair.”

Your smile grew wide and soft. “Oh, um…” Your face grew even warmer, if that were possible. “Lucifer, I would love to have dinner with you.”

He took in a breath so deep that you thought it was the first he’d ever taken. “You would?”

“Yes,” you softly said with a nod.

He lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Tomorrow night,” he said. You repeated it back to him. “I’ll pick you up.”

Your smile melted into a grin. “You certainly can. I mean, you do know where I live.”

He gave you a wicked smirk. “Are you flirting with me?”

You pulled your hand away as embarrassment, not fondness, heated your face beyond belief. “No,” you obviously lied, turning around. Lucifer started to laugh. “Okay, I’m going to my appointment now!”

“I’m sorry!” he called after you.

“No, you’re not, you liar!” you shouted back. You stepped into the elevator, turned around, and found him there in the elevator doors.

He smiled. “I never lie,” he reminded you, “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”

He let the doors shut. As the elevator started to descend, you heard him shout, “Tomorrow night!!”

“Tomorrow night!” you shouted back. You sat back against the wall of the elevator, pressed a hand to your heart, and closed your eyes. That was unexpected.

Linda stared at you when you relayed the events to her with wide eyes. “Oh,” she whispered, sitting back. “That is…”

“Unexpected,” you offered.

She nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. She fixed her glasses, cleared her throat, then changed the subject, “How have you been sleeping?”

Your smile faltered. You didn’t want to talk about it. You’d been actively avoiding sleeping; staying up for so long that you passed out and just didn’t dream because the nightmares were weighing so heavily on you. The nightmares bothered you, yes, but the similarities you’d had with Charlotte bothered you more.

You scratched your cheek in the same place you remembered touching the face the last time you saw it, just along your jaw, where stubble would cover. You curled your fingers under your chin.

“I really haven’t been,” you admitted. You grabbed a pillow and sighed, hugging it gently. “Ever since I talked to Charlotte—”

Linda sat up. You frowned, watching as she adjusted in her seat, trying to cover the fact that she flinched at the woman’s name. She cleared her throat and asked, “You talked to Charlotte?”

“Yes,” you said slowly. You leaned forward, squishing the pillow beneath you. “Why are you afraid of Charlotte?”

“I’m not—”

“Linda, do not bullshit me.” Her mouth clicked shut. You stood, dropping the pillow, and walked around the table to sit in front of her. “Please tell me,” you whispered. You held out your hands.

She hesitantly took them. “You wouldn’t believe me,” she sighed, looking up. She looked terrified.

You squeezed her hands, swallowing a lump in your throat. “I wouldn’t believe you?” you asked. You gave a small, incredulous laugh. The event of the last month or so floated to the forefront of your mind and manifested on your tongue. “She…” You heaved a sigh and shifted closer to her. “She was at my apartment,” you said. You shook your head. “Sometime on the same day that you went to the hospital. I dunno if it was before or after, I dunno when you got hurt.” Her hands clenched your fingers so hard you thought they might pop. Your lip trembled and the words spilled out. “I dunno what I saw, or what I felt, but there was a light? And…and since then things have been weird. I’ve had the nightmares? I’ve seen things?” You released her hand to wipe at your eyes and realized you were crying. “The other day I was at a crime scene with Lucifer and Amenadiel was there and time stopped. It stopped. I watched as they spoke with one of the cops and no one was moving, the light didn’t change, Linda, it didn’t change I counted the seconds and it didn’t change. Why didn’t it change?”

She slipped off her chair and wrapped her arms around your neck, squeezing as a sob bubbled up from your lips.

You hadn’t realized how much it all really ate at you until it all came out.

You hugged her tight and cried into her shoulder. She shushed you gently, rubbed your back, stroked your hair. “It’s okay,” she murmured.

“It’s not okay!” you protested. You pulled away from her, sat further back on the table and rubbed your eyes vigorously. “I feel like I’m going crazy!”

“You’re not.” She pulled her chair closer to you. Then, she reached up and unclipped her hair, rubbing her scalp. “I’ve seen it, too.” You looked up. “The light. Maze’s face. Lucifer’s face.”

You shook your head. “What’s wrong with their faces?” you whispered.

She shook her head in return, licking her lips nervously.

“Is it real?” you whispered.

Her fingers trembled as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think it is.”

You nodded slowly, scrubbing your hands over your face. Of course she’d think it was real. Why wouldn’t she? She was the most rational person you knew. “Can I stay with you tonight?” you rasped. You hugged your shoulders, squeezing yourself as tight as you could. You felt like you would crumble if you let go. The bubbly feeling you had walked in with was a distant memory.

“I always have room for you,” she answered, squeezing your arms. You nodded. Your chin started to shake again. “We’ll drink.” You laughed and agreed. “We’ll drink a lot.”

“Please.”

Lux was packed – as it usually was. Ever since you had been hired, had been making changes, the crowds at Lux were growing larger and larger every night. They were even running out of the ingredients to make the Devil’s Tongue drinks – another massive success on your part.

Yet you weren’t there? Lucifer had been looking around, watching the door, waiting for you to return from your appointment with Linda but it had been almost five hours and you hadn’t arrived. He glanced at his phone, tapping it against his thigh nervously when he didn’t see anything.

Had he scared you off? Had you just been pretending to be excited about dinner? Maybe it was a bad idea to ask you on a date, maybe he had ruined things, maybe—

Your favorite song cut through the roar of the crowd as his phone started to ring. He looked down at it. Your face flashed across his screen, a smiling picture of you in his arms as you both tried the Devil’s Tongue for the first time. Your name flashed above your head with the small heart he had added next to it in the middle of the night.

He answered almost instantly, calling your name, asking if you were alright.

You certainly weren’t, he could tell the moment you sniffled and lied and said, “Yeah, I’m fine, Lucifer.”

“Where are you?” he asked, heading up the stairs, turning around, backtracking until he found the hall to your office. It was quiet in there, almost silent as he shut the door behind him, and shivered. He didn’t like being in your office when you weren’t there. It wasn’t right.

“I’m uh…” you sniffed again and he gripped his phone tighter. Had someone hurt you? “I’m fine, I am,” you reassured, “I’m just gonna be staying with Linda for the night, if that’s okay?” With Linda? You were missing work to stay with Linda?

“Is she alright? Did something happen?” he asked, frowning. “I can be there in…” He shook his hand to fix his watch. “Twenty minutes if you need me.”

“No!” Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that. “No, Lucifer, it’s fine, really.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He heard your smile that time. “I promise. I um…We just had…a breakthrough? I suppose, and she’s letting me stay here so we can drink and talk some more outside of therapy reasons.” You sniffed. He could barely hear Linda in the background, asking if you were ready to go. “I’m really sorry for missing work tonight, I can make it up on Monday.”

“No, no, it’s nothing to worry yourself over,” he murmured. He rubbed at his chest. It was starting to ache. “Are you sure you’re alright…?”

“I am.” You sighed. “I’m…more alright than I have been these past few weeks.” You sniffled one last time. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucifer, alright?”

“Of course.”

You hesitated, the air heavy, almost as if you wanted to say something else. Lucifer felt words forming at the tip of his tongue the longer you stayed quiet. “Good night, Lucifer,” you whispered, “Don’t do anything reckless.”

He cleared his throat as his heart skipped. “Well,” he said, just as soft, just a fragile as you had, “I’ll be sure to mark blanket forts off my list for tonight, then.” You laughed. It made him smile. “Good night.”

You hung up.

He stared at your picture until his phone screen turned black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! What did everyone think of the new season??? I haven't had a chance to watch it yet, but I hope that it's great!! :D And i hope that you guys enjoyed that chapter!! :D


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